#for the rest of the time. and then agreeably reach a doneness conclusion at the end

[unopenablebox]

🌸 and i are perfect cooking symbiotes

[journalxxx]

All Might's New Pain Management Plan

Toshinori was having a splendid day.

What an incredible difference a slight change to one’s routine medication could make to his day-to-day life! He really was a fool for having postponed a revision for so long. The constant fear of undue side effects and unexpected flare-ups interfering with his job had made him procrastinate for months, years even, until he’d finally found no more excuses. He’d waited until he’d moved to Musutafu, so that he could see Recovery Girl in a jiffy in case the new treatment needed further adjusting, and he’d decided to start the new regimen on a free day, so that there would be zero chances of it impairing his performance on the field.

He really needn���t have worried. Some tweaking with the dosage of the existing therapy, plus the addition of some medical cannabis, had done literal wonders. He hadn’t felt so utterly pain-free and simply good in… hell, he couldn’t even remember how long.

So good that, in fact, by 11 AM he’d come to the conclusion that it would be a waste to while away this uniquely invigorating day vegetating at home, and he’d elected to go to work anyway. And worked he had, with nary a complaint from his cursed side, for three hours straight- even more than that, since journalists had been extremely eager to titillate him with cheeky questions that day, and he’d been more than ready to entertain them. 

And after his civic duty was carried out, leaving him somewhat winded but still pleasantly, uh, painkilled, how to employ the rest of his day, he’d wondered?

Soda, he’d decided. Buying soda would be a worthy pursuit for the next half an hour of his exceedingly agreeable Thursday. Why, one might ask, would a man strictly incapable of ingesting highly sugary foods bother acquiring two bottles of soda from the nearest convenience store? Not to drink it himself, obviously, but to keep it in a kitchen cabinet as an offering for guests. And why, one might inquire further, would a man with an off-the-clock social life as varied and vibrant as a sea cucumber’s feel the need to prepare for hypothetical guests? Because he’d just moved, obviously, and he felt the need to be ready to welcome any potential neighbors willing to venture a housewarming visit. Just because making friends would constitute, in itself, a dreadful risk to the security of highly classified information regarding the Symbol of Peace, that didn’t mean that Toshinori ought to pass as utterly uncivilized and brutish to the eyes of the occasional visitor. After spending roughly forty minutes innerly debating on the merits and demerits of the many types of food and drinks he could have stocked up on, he’d reached the conclusion that soda was the best choice, following a very complex reasoning that he couldn’t quite recall at the moment, but whose validity he was firmly convinced of. Hence his current endeavor.

But the universe had other plans for him. He hadn’t taken two steps out of the shop, in fact, before he laid eyes on yet another villain. Green, slimy, slippery, and leaving a revealing trail of sticky banknotes in his wake. When you say ‘dirty money’... Heh. 

Struck by inspiration, Toshinori transformed, then and there. He wouldn’t have dared, on any other day, not in the middle of the street, in full daylight. But that day wasn’t just any other day. That day was a Very Good Day, one of those fortuitous days when the stars simply aligned in the right way, and he knew. He knew that neither the owner nor any of the clients inside the convenience store were looking outside at that exact moment, despite the very audible ruckus caused by the villain’s passage. He knew that none of the bystanders would notice the puffs of steam liberally flowing out of his pores, or conveniently have him in their field of view as he shifted. He knew that even the unfaltering cameras framing the threshold of the store would be willing to make an exception this one time and forget a few frames, so as not to steal his thunder. The universe would give him a free pass from the usual plethora of precautions today, he just knew.

“There is an end.” He stated dramatically, with the perfect timing and the shit-eating grin of Japan’s Number One Deus Ex Machina. “Because I am here!”

As it turned out, astral alignments or not, sewers were a lot harder to navigate than sunbathed streets. It didn't matter though. Toshinori’s finely-honed instincts drove him exactly to the right spot, to the one manhole he was sure the villain had just escaped from.

“I AM HERE!” He proclaimed, punching the cover open and emerging from the ground, his voice booming and proud to strike fear in the heart of the cowardly criminal.

The metal cover hit the asphalt and clanked loudly, barely missing the head of one of the flabbergasted construction workers busy with repaving an inconspicuous road of Musutafu’s suburbs.

There was no trace of slime or villains anywhere in sight.

Ah, well, a small oversight could happen to anyone.

He flashed a thumbs up to the startled group of workers, reminding them of how deeply appreciated their hard labor was before he vanished underground.

“I AM HERE!” He proclaimed the second time, bursting from the ground and startling a bunch of primary schoolers playing football in a public park. He flashed them a thumbs up, reminding them of the importance of playing fair and safe before he vanished underground.

“I AM HERE!” He proclaimed the third time, bursting from the ground and startling a couple busy canoodling on a secluded bench in that same park, supposedly away from prying and impressionable young eyes. He flashed them a thumbs up, reminding them of the importance of using protection before he vanished underground.

“I AM HERE!” He proclaimed the fourth time, bursting from the ground and startling - oh would you look at that, the slime villain. Caught red-handed as he was trying to, uh… force his way into an adolescent? And where had his trousers gone? Goodness.

The questionable situation was settled with a swift Texas Smash, whose overpowering, nigh-weather-changing wind pressure surely contributed only minimally to the kid’s loss of consciousness upon being freed. It also sent the villain’s gooey body splattering on a good 80% of the surface of the whole underpass. Not Toshinori’s cleanest (heh) intervention, but a successful one nonetheless.

After ascertaining that the boy probably only needed a short nap to spontaneously get back on his feet, Toshinori set out to properly apprehend the criminal. The soda had to be sacrificed to provide a temporary plastic containment (he would purchase replacements at the earliest convenience). The goop was thick and tacky enough to be scooped up with bare hands, which was both very practical and very disgusting. He collected it and peeled it off the walls slowly, dollop by dollop. It turned out to be a surprisingly relaxing activity, meditative even. Like sharpening an old knife, or playing solitaire, or neatly trimming a bonsai’s tiny branches leaf by leaf. Not that Toshinori had ever actually done any of those things himself, but he bet that was exactly what they felt like.

As he screwed the tap of the second bottle (who knew that you could fit a mass of muck as big as a whole human being into a couple of two-liter bottles? The things one learned on this job!), Toshinori took notice of a battered, dirty, sad-looking notebook lying on the ground. It would have been legitimate to assume it was nothing but trash, but something told Toshinori that it probably belonged to the boy he just rescued. A sense of kinship, perhaps, with the battered, dirty, sad-looking boy in question.

Toshinori picked it up and flipped through it. There were words in it. An ungodly amount of tiny, cramped words that for some reason blurred and superimposed naughtily before Toshinori’s eyes, making it impossible for him to read them no matter how hard he squinted. He clearly saw the pictures though, pictures and newspaper cuts of esteemed colleagues on every other page. Aw, the kid must be a hero fanboy, wasn’t that adorable? This called for a little treat.

Unfortunately Toshinori was not carrying any writing implements on his person, but fortunately the young student certainly was. Toshinori rolled the kid on one side so that he could access his backpack, rummaged through it (surely the young man wouldn’t mind), accidentally caught a glimpse of the boy’s name on one of his school texts (surely the young man wouldn’t mind), and finally got ahold of a black marker. After a few minutes of careful artistic deliberations, Toshinori boldly inscribed an angular signature and a cheery doodle right in the central pages of the notebook, the place of honor. Then, satisfied, he put them both into the boy’s- no. He put the marker back into the backpack, neatly rolled the child onto his back again, then dropped the notebook on the ground exactly where he found it. It would make for a much more unexpected surprise that way, oh yes it would.

Everything had been taken care of. Except the victim, who hadn’t come to his senses yet, an issue that Toshinori decided to solve by administering a little helping of Gran Torino-style first aid, in the form of a rapid fire of therapeutic slaps to the cheek. With much less oomph than his mentor would have handed them himself, obviously, because Toshinori thought the kid had already courted concussion enough for the day.

“Thank goodness! You’re okay, excellent!” Toshinori boomed, positively jubilant. It was always so deeply gratifying to witness the relief and gratitude on the face of his- ah, no. The kid was screaming. Screaming and scrambling away from him in shock. Ah, well. Near-death experiences did that to people sometimes. Good to see his survival instincts were still in working order, at least!

“Apologies for getting you caught up with my villain hunt!” The boy’s disjointed babbling and shaking made it clear that he needed another minute or two to regain all his higher brain functions, so Toshinori happily took it upon himself to carry on the conversation. “I don’t usually make mistakes like these, but what can you do? I must have gotten distracted by the sights of this new city! The sewage, the drains, the pipes… Oh, and the rats! So feisty! Just lovely!”

The boy kept gawking at him, his expression shifting quickly from bewilderment to perplexity to confusion. Not much of an emotional variety, admittedly, but Toshinori could track those changes minutely. “Anyway, your assistance has been invaluable, young man!“

“M-My assistance…?” Were the kid’s first humanly intelligible words. Ah, one more minute and he’d manage a whole, full sentence, wonderful!

“Indeed! Thank you very much for stopping the villain in his tracks until I could catch up with him! Much obliged!”

“U-Uh… It’s not like I… I didn’t really do that, he just jumped at me…” The boy fidgeted with his hands. “I think I was about to… get killed…”

“Yes! Wonderfully done!” Toshinori gave him a well-deserved thumbs up. If only all victims on the verge of being killed were so proficient at not, ultimately, being killed, how much simpler a hero’s job would be! “Now, I must bring this rascal to the police. Be safe on your way home and see you on the other side of the screen!”

“W-Wait! Already? I- Can I have a…” The kid flinched and looked around frantically, and then- Hah! He reached for the notebook and oh, oh, his reaction was just priceless! More screaming and flailing around, just precious! Toshinori couldn’t hold back a long, heartfelt laugh that nearly sent him into a coughing fit, and that for some reason drew more confused glances from the kid. He must still be feeling a tad disoriented from the accident, poor thing. “U-Uh, thank you! I’ll treasure this forever, but, uhm… Can I ask you a que-”

“I’m sorry, I really must be on my way now. A pro battles not only enemies, but also time.” Ah, such a quotable answer. He could come up with some really remarkable one-liners when inspiration struck him, bless his talent for improvisation. 

“Wait, I really-”

A little stretch, one last greeting, and off he went with a powerful leap into the high, deep blue sky… But something was wrong. Toshinori’s keen senses informed him that not all was as it should be, his usually carefully balanced and elegant movements now impeded by something weighing his left side down, something like-

“Hey, hey, hey, HEY!” Toshinori protested as he gently but firmly tried to dislodge the child-shaped limpet hell bent on melding with his leg. “Personal space, young man! Let go!”

“I CAN’T!” The creature (it looked less and less like a child now that the wind seemed about to peel layers of flesh off his skull, dear God, that was going to give Toshinori nightmares) lamented. “If I- let go now- I’ll DIE!”

“...Oh. Oh, that’s right.” Hm, that was an astute observation. One should never underestimate gravity. The kid had some brains on him, didn’t he? It must have to do with all those words in that notebook of his.

Well, there was nothing for it, an extra stop was in order - and advisable too, probably, considering the sudden metallic taste in Toshinori’s mouth. Hmm, that was slightly concerning. Maybe he should have powered down while spending all that time scraping sludge off concrete. A bit of a silly oversight, that one. Ah well, he still felt pretty damn good, surely he could last a little longer.

He landed on the rooftop of a random building to unload his stowaway, who was once again trembling like a newborn foal, and motioned to leave, when a sudden bout of dizziness overtook him. Oh. Oh, he was losing steam. Metaphorically and literally (heh). He wasn’t going to last a little longer. He was-

He was wincing at the umpteenth ear-piercing screech the human fire alarm named Izuku Midoriya let out upon seeing his true form.

…Aahh, that was unfortunate.

“WHAT?” The kid gasped, thrashing around like a headless chicken. “Why do you look like- A-Are you a fake? What-”

“A fake?” Toshinori couldn’t repress a spark of irritation. Really, now? He’d just kicked villainous ass right before the boy’s eyes and accidentally let him hitch a ride on his leg halfway across the city, and he had the gall to call him a fake?! What kind of fake could do all that? “I’m All Mfgfh” Ah pity, that declaration would have been so much more impactful without the uncontrolled gush of blood.

“B-But how?!”

Hmmm, well, how to explain that in a simple, easy-to-grasp manner? Toshinori took a second, several seconds, a minute to ponder that question, sitting down to get some needed rest and raising his gaze upwards in search of inspiration.

“Uhm, are you okay? Did you-”

“You know those guys at the pool who are always flexing to look more imposing?” Toshinori offered, inspired by the sky, which was blue, like water, which was at the pool, and by the clouds, which were- okay no, the clouds weren’t contributing one bit. “It’s kind of like that.”

“Flexing?” Midoriya asked, inexplicably more confused by the comparison. “But… flexing doesn’t- You’re smaller! Like, physically smaller!”

“Yeah. That’s why I flex. To look bigger.”

“But… It doesn’t work that way! You can’t possibly- Doesn’t All Might weigh 274 kilos?”

“255.”

“Wh- No, I’m sure it was reported he weighs 274 in the latest issue of… Where did you read that number?”

“My scale.” Toshinori elaborated patiently. For some reason that information stumped Midoriya even more.

“All right, never mind that, but- you can’t weigh that much, surely! I mean you as you are now, all… skinny. Do you?”

“No.”

“See?!” The kid gestured widely, looking more out of sorts by the second. “You can’t be the same person! You can’t increase your weight just by flexing! Flexing doesn’t add muscles to a person out of nowhere!”

“Not with that attitude!” Toshinori exclaimed, pointing his finger triumphantly at the kid. Damn, it felt good to win an argument. For all his stubbornness, Midoriya recognized his intellectual loss as well, since he didn’t object further, and instead simply stared at Toshinori in utter dismay.

…All right, enough philosophizing about conservation of mass. They had a situation here. Toshinori sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, that’s not important. I need you to keep quiet about this, all right? This is a big secret. Huge. Humongous. For obvious reasons. So I need to know for sure you won’t go shouting it from… rooftops.” Like the one they were standing on. Heh.

“But-”

“No buts! You can’t chat about it with your friends! You can’t tell your parents about it - only that though. Do talk with your parents about… issues and stuff, just not this.” Toshinori quickly amended. Preserving classified secrets wasn’t good enough of a reason to accidentally aggravate intergenerational conflict and misunderstandings. Implying that would be most unheroic. “Don’t spread rumors on the internet - especially don’t spread rumors on the internet. And don’t write about it in your thing either.”

“My thing?”

“Your thing. The… the paper thing with… all the words…” Toshinori squeezed his eyes shut and snapped his fingers repeatedly in annoyance, trying to recall the mischievous word eluding him for no reason other than mocking him- “Notebook! Don’t write anything in your notebook. Actually, just forget about all this entirely. As a service to this country, okay?”

Midoriya stared at him silently, evidently at a loss, before dropping his gaze to the floor and contemplating it as if he both wished and feared it would suddenly swallow him whole. 

“...Is… Is this for real? Are you really All Might?” He asked faintly, clearly hoping against all hope for some sort of candid camera-like bluff to be revealed.

“Yep. In the flesh.” Toshinori grinned. “All 70 kilos of it.”

The kid really didn’t have the best reaction times to unforeseen discoveries. It took him a good minute longer of nervous hand-wringing and gulping before he finally nodded, still avoiding Toshinori’s gaze entirely. “O-Okay. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Hm. Good. Thanks.” Well, that settled it. It could have gone worse. Now, what was Toshinori doing before this whole thing…? He could swear he was in a hurry, but the exact cause of that escaped him at the moment. Oh well, it would come back to him. In the meantime, he could catch some more breath on this pleasantly breezy rooftop… 

And, uh, maybe try to lift Midoriya’s spirits a little bit? He looked… very disheartened, didn’t he? That was a sad sight. And damn if that didn’t reinforce how important it was for Toshinori to keep his emaciated form well concealed. Imagine that level of utter dejection applied to all the citizens of Japan. God forbid. “Uhm. You were saying something?”

“Eh?” The kid finally raised his gaze, taken aback.

“Before I…” Toshinori made a poof sound with his mouth, and completed the concept with a fitting poofing hand gesture. “You were saying something? Or not?”

“Oh, uhm, I… I was just asking if…” The boy paused, his eyes darted left and right for a few brief moments, then he bit his lip and curled a little more on himself. “Ah, never mind. It doesn’t matter…”

“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll be on my way then.” Toshinori said. Well, he’d tried. If it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter. “Remember to forget all about this, mh?”

“Oh, ah, uhm…” Midoriya eloquently commented as Toshinori shuffled to get on his feet, and then words started flowing out of his mouth at an unprecedented, hectic speed. “A-Actually I was saying that I really admire you and your unwavering optimism and my biggest dream is to become a hero like you so I would like to know if you think someone can become a hero even without a quirk.”

Toshinori blinked. He stopped moving halfway through standing up, badly propped against the railing behind his back, and he clumsily fell back down on his butt.

He blinked again. “...Without a quirk?”

“Yeah.” The kid answered, thankfully at a more reasonable pace. “I… I’m quirkless. And I’ve always been made fun of because of that, and… no one’s ever taken me seriously when I said I wanted to become a hero. It does feel… simply impossible, at times. But I was wondering if, if maybe you… do you think it’s possible?”

…Huh. Would you look at that? The stars had indeed aligned in a very peculiar way for Toshinori, that day. That someone, a quirkless boy, might ask that specific question to him, of all people… This required some thinking. A calm assessment, a balanced mind, tactful wording. The weight of this boy’s entire expectations, hopes and fears rested on Toshinori’s shoulders - not by chance, probably. Not by chance, but by some carefully ordained play of fate. Toshinori would not trifle with this duty so lightly.

He crossed his legs where he sat, rested his elbows on his knees, joined his hands as if in prayer right in front of his mouth. And thought. At length. And deeply.

And then, he looked the trepidant boy straight in the eyes, and spoke.

“No.”

It was Midoriya’s turn to blink. “N-No?”

“No.”

“...That’s it?” The boy said, visibly disappointed. “I mean, just… Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?” Toshinori asked, bewildered. Wasn’t his answer clear enough? Simple, straightforward, concise, precise? What did this child want from him, a twenty-step mathematical proof? “How do you expect to be able to fight villains and rescue people without a quirk?”

“Ah, well, I thought… Maybe with support items?” The kid offered tentatively, and then someone went and fast-forwarded his voice again. “I mean, all heroes use support items! Some to improve mobility, some as armor, some as weapons, so I thought a quirkless hero could exist too! He could use support items more to compensate for the lack of a quirk!”

“Psh.” Toshinori waved his hand dismissively. “Support items don’t cut it. They break, they run out of batteries and ammos, they get misplaced or forgotten. They aren’t reliable enough. Because they aren’t part of-”

“But quirks have drawbacks too! Quirks have limits and sometimes even damage the user when abused! They aren’t that different from support items! Technology has made such incredible leaps, I don’t see why a quirkless hero shouldn’t-”

“No, no, you don’t get it.” Toshinori pinched the bridge of his nose and took another moment to choose his words. “Support items are things. They can only do so much. But what a hero needs is the ability to go beyond.”

Midoriya gave him an odd look. “I’m not sure I’m following…”

“Look. When you are in a pinch, which is often in our line of work, you have to… draw something extra from within yourself to pull through. A motivation, a strength, a boost, a… a Plus Ultra. Right? You can’t squeeze that Plus Ultra from a tool. But you can get it from your quirk. Because your quirk is part of you, and it’s alive.” Toshinori explained passionately, and bumped his fist against his chest, right where his own fire lay. “And when you call for it to go the extra mile, it will respond, and it will carry you through those hardships.”

For the first time, Midoriya truly seemed to absorb Toshinori’s words. Slowly and thoughtfully, he mimicked his gesture, closing his fist and resting it against his chest… and then his expression scrunched up. Painfully. “And is this Plus Ultra something only people with a quirk have? Something quirkless people just… lack?”

“Oh, uhm.” That garbled Toshinori’s thoughts for a moment. “Well, that’s not-”

“It can’t be!” The kid burst out with surprising vehemence. “You said your quirk is a part of you, but it’s not the only part! There are others! Why shouldn’t quirkless people have their own Plus Ultra, from their own parts?!”

“It’s not that. Of course you can gather your strength and fight back even if you’re quirkless, but in that case, it’s just… not enough.” Toshinori rubbed his palm on his forehead. Why on earth had he had the unfortunate idea of inviting this conversation, again…? “A well-trained quirk is a hero’s best defense. It’s what saves their lives and the lives of other people when things get dire. And yet, a lot of times even that isn’t enough, and bad things happen anyway. Even… Look.” 

Toshinori grabbed the lower rim of his t-shirt and hiked it up. As per well-established habit by now, Midoriya reacted to the sight of Toshinori’s twice-cursed side with a shriek and a horrified expression.

“W-w-what… what is that?!” A skyscraper, Toshinori almost replied. Patience. Mocking naive schoolboys was most unheroic too. 

“Cool, huh?” He said instead, as he contemplated the wound himself…because it was cool, he just realized. Huh. In all honesty, it was a lot easier to look at the damn thing with less rancor when it didn’t feel like two thousand incandescent needles were piercing it as soon as you bent a bit oddly. Maybe it was time for a paradigm shift, Toshinori pondered. It was all a matter of perspective, after all. Maybe there was no need to spend the rest of his life resenting the stupid scar for existing, maybe he could simply rethink it. Start looking at the positive sides. And if there was one undeniable positive side to scars, Toshinori decided, it was bragging rights. “Wanna touch it?”

“WHA- NO!” Midoriya cowered at the mere idea. Disappointing. Had today’s kids lost the love for the thrill of daring each other to touch gross stuff? Very disappointing. “D-Doesn’t it hurt?!”

“HAH!” Toshinori produced another spurt of blood in his enthusiasm, elated, wonderfully and genuinely elated to be able to answer- “Not today!”

“Is that why you look like… that?”

“Mm-hmm.” Toshinori nodded solemnly. “Lost my stomach because of this thing. A lung too.”

Midoriya’s only reaction to the additional information was aghast silence. Come on, where were the awed oooohs and aaaahs that performing such a feat of survival ought to earn Toshinori? This kid was giving him zero satisfaction. “How…?”

“A real rotten guy did it. He got what he deserved though.” One rotten guy Toshinori would not mention, nor think about more than strictly necessary. He wasn’t worth it. “Anyway, my point is that this kind of thing happens a lot to heroes. It happened to me too. And I’m me. And my quirk is pretty damn strong, if I say so myself. But it wasn’t strong enough to fully protect me anyway, and I got wrecked.” Toshinori made a poignant pause as he let his shirt fall back in place. “You get me? What do you think would happen to a hero who doesn’t even have a quirk to defend himself with?”

“...He’d get wrecked even more.” Midoriya mumbled meekly, bowing his head in defeat.

“Mmh.” 

“And the people he’d be trying to rescue wouldn’t receive the help they need.”

“Mmmmh.”

Midoriya paused, then drew a long sigh and made a little self-deprecating grimace. “I guess… it really is true. Quirkless people just can’t become heroes… Someone would already have, if it was possible at all, and they’d be famous for it. Everyone would know. But no one ever made it.”

“Mmmmmnope.” 

A tiny, squirmy something nagged at the back of Toshinori’s mind, but he ignored it. It wasn’t technically a lie, after all. Naive Quirkless Toshinori and Outstanding Hero Toshinori were two parts of him that had never met - they were pretty much antithetical, in fact, and had not overlapped once. When the latter had come into being, the former had ceased to exist. Two entirely different entities, almost. Toshinori didn’t contradict the no-quirkless-heroes rule, he was the exception that confirmed it.

“...I understand.” The boy eventually acquiesced, arms slack along his sides, head bent, shoulders hunched. QED, at long last. Toshinori had now won a grand total of two arguments with the kid, but he was dramatically losing the war for improving his mood. The latest exchange had sunk it even further, actually. That was completely unbecoming of the Symbol of Peace, whether he weighed 70 kilos or 255. That ought to be fixed immediately.

“Why are you so dead set on aiming for one of the few professions that basically require you to have a quirk, anyway? You could do just as much good in so many other fields.”

“Yeah, I know…”

“How about becoming a police officer?” Toshinori went off on a limb. “One of my best friends is a police officer, and he’s quirkless. Splendid fellow. Efficient, capable, kind-hearted… A real lifesaver. No pun intended. I’d have drowned in paperwork years ago if it weren’t for his help.”

“Mmmh…”

“Oh, and I know a quirkless girl around your age too, and she’s- oh, she’s just a joy! Clever, positive, helpful… She’s studying to become a support item engineer, and she’s going to blow up the field as soon as she completes her education, mark my words.” Oh man, just mentioning her was making Toshinori’s heart do somersaults. He missed Melissa and Dave, he missed them so much… How long had it been since he’d last seen them in person? Too long, way too long. Damn it all, he was going to make room in his schedule for a quick trip to I-Island as soon as he could. He’d visit them, and he’d have a whale of a time, and he’d bring them a gigantic gift basket filled with all the best varieties of soda money could buy. “You’re into support items, right? That could be a good career for you too!”

“I-I get it.” Midoriya finally looked back at him with a little smile. Very little and clearly far from persuaded but, uh, progress? “I should… I will look into other things. I suppose people were right, I should start thinking a bit more… realistically.”

“Yeah!” Toshinori agreed, finally getting back on his feet and approaching the kid. “Don’t let yourself get bogged into a single fanciful objective! Dreams are all well and good, but, if you just remember to keep your feet on the ground…” Toshinori underlined his advice with a light stomp of his boot on the floor-

And it exploded.

Well, not the concrete floor they were standing on, nor his boot, thankfully, but something exploded somewhere. They both flinched at the loud bang, and turned their heads in unison towards the source of the noise. A rapidly rising cloud of black smoke had erupted between two tall buildings a short distance to the west. Uh oh.

“Busy day today, huh?” All right, chit chat time was over. Toshinori immediately bulked up into his muscle form and fired up his quirk, ready for action. “I’ll take care of it.”

“...Oh. Oh no.” Was Midoriya’s predictable, thoughtful, level-headed, totally not panicking input. “Oh no, the bottles! I made you drop-”

“Sorry, gotta bounce.” Heh. Bounce. Nice. “Best of luck for your future!”

Without further ado, Toshinori leaped. He soared in the sky at impressive speed towards the commotion, he soared high, high, higher than ever…

And then, right at the zenith of his jump, he poofed back into his true form.

…Crap. He’d forgotten about his time limit. It was deceptively hard to keep track of it now that it wasn't heralded by the usual cacophony of warning body pains. Crap.

He’d also underestimated gravity. Again. A major miscalculation, because gravity was a harsh, unforgiving mistress, who did not take kindly to being ignored. And as soon as she noticed that Toshinori had disrespected her so, she immediately put him back on a leash and started dragging him down, down, lower than ever…

“Ah, shit.” Toshinori muttered, trying and failing to summon his quirk again, and again, and again, obtaining nothing more than feeble puffs of steam in return, and- and the ground was getting closer and closer at a frankly disturbing speed now, and- “Ah, FUCK-”

Yui Suzuki wasn’t an exceedingly sympathetic person. She was aware of it and, although she wasn’t terribly proud of it, she didn’t think it much of a flaw either. Everyone was entitled to a measure of selfishness, she judged, it was just how life worked. That is why she didn’t feel particularly guilty when, upon stepping outside her shop to check on the source of that frightening bang and saw the alarming dark cloud likely tied to it, her first thought was “Good thing it didn’t happen any closer to my store!”, rather than maybe worrying about potential casualties and damages in the neighborhood. Maybe she wasn’t a model citizen, but she didn’t believe in karma either, and she maintained that one’s private thoughts couldn’t possibly hurt anyone, especially not herself.

That day, however, the universe apparently decided to send Yui a clear message. Because no more than a second after she’d harbored that slightly self-centered notion, something happened right outside the door of her precious laundry. Something that fell right out of the sky with no warning whatsoever, and crashed in the middle of the street hard enough to dig a small crater in it and create a tiny whirlwind of dust and dirt.

Miraculously unharmed, Yui and the few passersby in the area gaped in shock at the… whatever it was that caused such a scary collision. A broken satellite? Debris thrown their way by the explosion? Whatever it was, it must be scalding, because it was enveloped in a thick layer of steam that took a few moments to dispel, even after the dust had settled.

But, in fact… to everyone’s increasing perplexity, it was a person. A man, to be precise, curled up on himself defensively, who had nonetheless managed to land on his feet in the middle of the hole. Slowly, amidst astonished silence, the tall, haggard blond who’d just landed with all the grace of a meteor stood up unsteadily. He looked down at himself and coughed once, harshly, then started patting some dust off his shirt with unhurried movements, almost sluggish. He stopped abruptly when it came down to cleaning his trousers. He checked his many pockets, one by one, methodically, then scratched his head and glanced confusedly at the smoke dispersing in the sky not far from there.

And then, only then, the man seemed to take notice of his surroundings. Sunken, absent eyes blinked owlishly at each of the bystanders. Without a word, he made his way out of the crater on very wobbly legs, offering only a sheepish smile and a little wave in lieu of greeting to the onlookers, before quietly slinking away into the nearest alley.

It took a hot minute for Toshinori to finally reach the site of the accident, mostly because his knees hadn’t stopped buckling once since his rough landing - he’d finally managed to activate his quirk right before hitting the ground, therefore avoiding turning into an unsightly splotch on the asphalt, but the impact had rattled him something fierce nonetheless. With his legs reduced to nigh-jelly-like state, out of breath, and mildly out of it in general, Toshinori simply had to lean against the nearest wall for a moment as he took stock of the situation.

Which wasn’t good. Explosions, fires, slime, and another soon-to-be-assimilated boy. Bad combination. Several heroes were already on scene, but only a couple of them were actively taking steps to address the problem, and only so far as containment and protection of the onlookers went, not to rescue the hostage. That was somewhat mistifying, and a little irritating. They better all be nursing their own nearly-deadly chronic injuries to justify this level of idleness, or Toshinori would be tempted to call this laziness.

He wasn’t in any position to judge though. He tried reaching into his quirk once again, but he couldn’t even muster enough energy to switch forms. As a further act of spite, his thrice-cursed side even gave a traitorous pang. He’d breezed through the day’s ordeals swimmingly (heh. Like the guys at the pool. Swimmingly- no, this wasn’t the time for puns), only to come up short on the home stretch.

So. 

This was a bit of a pickle.

Toshinori was racking his brain to figure out a way to overcome the impasse… when it happened.

It happened, and suddenly everything became crystal clear.

Suddenly Toshinori was fully and unmistakably certain of what exactly the stars had aligned themselves for, of where exactly they’d been leading him, of what exactly they’d meant him to witness. And with that mind-blowing, life-changing realization, One For All sang joyfully within him.

And his legs moved on their own.

Izuku was having the strangest day of his life. It wasn’t even over yet, but it had already gone above and beyond the requirements for that label.

Almost dying (twice) wasn’t even the most extraordinary part of it. He’d met All Might! The one and only All Might - there really was no more doubt about that after the man had saved him again. And it had been… Well. All Might was very different from how Izuku had always envisioned him. Not only physically - and that had been quite the shocker in its own merit - but also, uh, personality-wise. The way he spoke and moved and reasoned were… peculiar, in a way that Izuku couldn’t quite describe. Izuku supposed that genius came hand in hand with eccentricity, and the Symbol of Peace was nothing if not a prodigy. Not that he regretted meeting him in person in any way! Not at all! He still admired and respected the hero and everything he stood for just as much as before, or even more so, now that he’d caught a glimpse of his previously unthinkable struggles. It’s just that… Well, he’d be spending a few weeks going through the events of the day over and over in his own head, to put it mildly.

Izuku had finished listening to Kacchan’s rant and was finally ready to get back home and fuse with his bed until the next morning, when the universe decided to fix him with another serving of excitement. Out of the blue, All Might sprinted out of a side lane and skidded to a halt right in front of him (striking a pose that looked suspiciously and disturbingly like a dab). Before Izuku could recover from the mild heart attack his loud greeting had given him, the man had already shrunk into his thin form, coughed more blood and, and…

Staggered closer, dropped to his knees right in front of him, and hugged him.

“Uuuuuhhh.” Izuku’s brain unhelpfully supplied to his mouth.

“...It’s you. I finally found you.” All Might said, his tone even more strangely dreamy than before, long, bony arms caging Izuku in a tight (but not uncomfortable) embrace. “It was fate that let us meet today, wasn’t it?”

“Uh…Uh…” Izuku stuttered, utterly failing to process anything whatsoever about the current situation. “I’m not sure… what…”

“You’re perfect. We’re… we’re the same. Same story. Same body. Same heart.” All Might continued softly as he petted Izuku’s hair in a way that, had he been literally any other random stranger he’d just met, would have compelled Izuku to start screaming for the nearest policeman. He was no random stranger though. He was All Might, so basically the only positive male role model Izuku had had for his entire life. If anything, it made Izuku want to cry a little. “You’ll make a magnificent hero, there’s no doubt about it.”

“A hero…?” Izuku startled slightly at that, which made All Might let go and pull back enough to meet his gaze properly. Izuku… hadn’t meant to do that. He’d have been perfectly content to remain like that a little longer, but- never mind.

“But of course! What you did back there was, was…” The hero beamed, his bright eyes darting up and left and right, searching for the most appropriate terms to convey his thoughts. “You just went for it! No hesitation! No plans! No strategies! No thoughts whatsoever!”

“A-Ah… Yeah, I guess… That wasn’t very smart of me.” Izuku mumbled apologetically. “I’m sorry, that was very dangerous and I should have used my head before-”

“No no, it was perfect!” All Might interjected gleefully. “That’s exactly what being a hero is about! No thoughts, just…” He produced a strange sound with his mouth and made an odd gesture, drawing some sort of line and circle and spinning motion in the air with his hand. Izuku had absolutely no idea how to interpret any of that. All Might didn’t seem displeased or reproachful though, which was good at least. “Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

“Thank you, but… Earlier you said that there’s no way I can become a hero without a quirk, and I-”

All Might threw his head back and burst into a boisterous laugh that Izuku wouldn’t define deranged out of pure courtesy. “That’s not a problem, we can fix that. In fact…” The man plucked a long, golden strand from one of his droopy bangs and held it out right in front of Izuku’s nose, so close that it almost made him go cross eyed. “Here!”

Izuku blinked. “Uhm, what…?”

“Your quirk!” All Might said, grinning widely. “Have at it!”

“Ah…” That statement was so perplexing in so many ways that Izuku didn’t even know where to start. Wisely, he chose to begin with the most obvious one. “That’s a hair.”

“Yeah!” All Might’s smile was eerily unwavering and enthusiastic. 

…Okay. One thing at a time. Maybe doing as he was told would grant Izuku further, less cryptic explanations down the line. Hopefully. He motioned to take the proffered hair as he was clearly expected to do, when All Might suddenly snatched it away before Izuku’s fingers could even brush it.

“Wait, no. No no no, we can’t do this.” The man recanted, all his overflowing cheer swiftly morphing into ill-concealed concern. He pulled back a little further and grabbed Izuku’s shoulder with his free hand, slowly scanning him from head to toe. “You’re a noodle. You’d explode.”

“WHAT?!” Izuku flinched back in turn, putting as much space as All Might’s grip allowed between himself and the seemingly-explosive hair. “W-What does that mean? What’s going on?”

“Hang on, we have to… Make some preparations first… Hmmm.” The hero hummed thoughtfully, letting go of him and tapping his chin slowly. He trailed off and his eyes went a little unfocussed- why did he keep doing that? Izuku waited, mostly out of politeness, for a good minute until the man’s attention finally snapped back on him and he casually flicked the hair off into the air. Much to Izuku’s relief, it did not explode. “All right. No big deal. We’ll do this at a later date, after you’ve shaped up a little.”

“All Might.” Izuku said, not bothering to hide the pleading edge of his tone. It had been a very long day, and he was very tired. Even at the cost of sounding very dumb and very pathetic, he couldn’t muster the energy for anything other than unadulterated honesty. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Here’s the thing. What if I told you…” Taking Izuku’s confusion in full stride, the hero’s grin was back in full force as he leant forward again, bracing his hands on his thighs. “That I could give you my quirk?”

“...Uhhh-”

“My quirk-” He went on without actually waiting for an answer, “Can be passed down from person to person, as an ever-increasing reserve of raw physical strength!” Slowly and theatrically, All Might spread his arms and threw his head and his whole torso back, so much that Izuku almost grabbed his shirt by sheer reflex to prevent him from toppling backwards onto the street. He didn’t though, and the man’s balance managed to withstand the ordeal. “It’s a crystalline network of power at the service of the brave hearts and minds who wield it with noble intent!”

For the umpteenth time that day, Izuku was utterly speechless. That was… unbelievable. And completely unheard of. Not even hypothesized, ever. An ever-increasing… transmissible… Holy crap. Holy crap.

“Is that why you can get bigger and buff all at once?” Izuku blurted out, his ability to speak rushing back to him with a vengeance. “Does that happen when all the stored energy flows into you? And it gets converted into… muscle mass?”

“...Eh?” All Might re-emerged from his back-leaning pose with a puzzled expression. “No, no, that’s… I told you, that’s just flexing- pay attention, young Midoriya, this is very important.”

“S-Sorry… Wait, how do you know my nam-”

“My quirk’s name is One For All.” The man testily went on, raising his index between them, presumably to emphasize the ‘one’, and then angled it horizontally to point at Izuku. “And you are worthy of inheriting it.”

“M-Me, I’m… What?!” Izuku gasped, his mind still reeling from the barrage of information and revelations. “B-But… how- I didn’t- why would you think that?!”

“Because you have all the right stuff! Or you will, at least!” All Might poked Izuku’s chest teasingly. “You have the self-sacrificing heart of someone who puts the wellbeing of others before anything else, even against overwhelming odds, and you will have a body capable of channeling that power, once you’ve trained decently! How does that sound?”

“It sounds… too good to be true.” Izuku replied frankly. That whole day felt like an extraordinary long and bizarre dream, and Izuku was sure he was just about to wake up and realize that he’d never met All Might, never hugged All Might, never been promised a quirk-

“Hey, hey, what’s that face for?” Oh crap, Izuku was crying, wasn’t he? He quickly wiped his eyes on his sleeve, but new tears and sobs replaced the old ones instantly. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, no, it’s not that-”

“I never lie. I embellish and reframe facts, sometimes. Omit truths at worst. But never lie!” All Might declared, straightening his back fully and proudly. Even when kneeling on the ground, his height easily surpassed Izuku’s. “Just give me a couple of days to organize a few things and you’ll see. We’ll make a hero out of you, my boy, if it’s the last thing we do!”

Well, Izuku definitely hoped it wouldn’t be, but… even with his vague understanding of all that had just happened, he found that… he looked forward to it. To see where this weird, weird being-trained-by-All-Might-to-receive-his-quirk thing would lead. It couldn’t be any worse than where his current helpless middleschooler’s life was heading, could it?

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” A warm pat on his shoulder pulled him out of his mulling. All Might was smiling kindly, so very kindly, and that sent another sweet-sharp throb of emotion right through his heart. “All right, all right, I won’t keep you any longer. Go home. I’ll text you to let you know when we’ll start with the training, okay?”

“O-Okay.” Izuku tried his best to pull himself together, and gave the man a faint smile in return. Fearless smiles were just the thing when one needed to summon their inner hero, weren’t they? “T-Thank you. For everything.”

All Might hummed again and waved him off. Izuku started walking away as he dried his last tears, threw a quick glance back at the man, looked and walked forward again, then turned back to check on All Might once more… and then he stopped, because he thought it just a little odd that the hero was still waiting there, kneeling and perfectly motionless and ever smiling.

“Uhm. Aren’t you going to…?” Izuku asked.

“To what?”

“Leave?”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’ll…” All Might let out a small, bizarre giggle. “I can’t- I can’t get up.”

“What?” Izuku’s heart rate spiked with sudden worry as he instantly ran back to his idol’s side. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?”

“Ah, it’s just my legs, they’re a bit, uh…” The man bowed his head and regarded his thighs with the same fond and slightly exasperated expression of a parent watching a mischievous child disobey out of sheer defiance. “I think I overdid it a little.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I should have noticed, or asked…” Izuku hastily shrugged off his backpack and started rifling through it in a mild panic. “A-Are you in pain?”

“No!” If possible, All Might’s smile grew even more inexplicably serene. “I’m not!”

“...Okay. Okay, that’s good. I think.” Priorities, Izuku reminded himself. Freaking out and being hopelessly confused could wait until later. He finally found his phone and started tapping the screen frantically. “S-Should I call an ambulance? Or your agency? Or someone you know? Can you move your legs at all?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.” As if to prove his point, All Might squirmed slightly on the spot. His legs seemed indeed capable of movement, but he didn’t even attempt to stand up. Was this another consequence of his injury? Was this as common as coughing blood? Was this why he seemed so utterly unbothered by it all? “Hey, don’t worry, really, I’m fine! I just need to catch my breath and I’ll be on my way.”

“Are you sure you can make it home by yourself?” Izuku griped.

“Well, I have to. It’s not like I can just teleport there. Gotta walk the walk.”

Izuku blinked. “I could call you a taxi.”

All Might blinked back. “...Oh.” His grin was becoming so impossibly wide that Izuku feared his jaw would eventually detach from the rest of his skull. “Brilliant!”

“Right. Okay.” To the best of his ability, Izuku focussed exclusively on the task of dialing the taxi service number, without questioning his hero’s behavior in the slightest. “I can give you my number as well while we wait, I guess.”

“What for?” Was the dumbfounded question. Izuku drew a deep, long breath.

“...So you can text me. Like you said you would.”

“That’s right!” All Might, Symbol of Peace, Number One Hero, contemplated Izuku’s face with blinding, overwhelming, and unparalleled awe and admiration. “Brilliant! Just brilliant!"

When Toshinori woke up, fifteen hours later and with a much clearer head, he found that the events of the previous day had yielded an exceptionally varied legacy. To name a few examples:

An expanded and emboldened pattern of body aches, starring his lower limbs in a key role for the first time ever;

Some thirty-odd attempts at contacting him, in the shape of calls, texts and mails, from his agency’s PR department, which he had missed entirely until that moment due to his phone having somehow put itself on silent mode unbeknownst to him;

Dozens of articles and reports that would trickle on papers, TV and web over the coming weeks speculating on the bizarre behavior and peculiar declarations of the Symbol of Peace over the course of an unscheduled work day;

A long-lasting dread that one day someone might unexpectedly whip out an amateur recording of a twiggy man plummeting from the sky and wearing the exact same clothes All Might would be seen wearing mere minutes later in a very close location, and use it to connect a few dots;

A text from Recovery Girl containing a very warm recommendation to drop by her office for a revision of his new treatment plan;

A wonderfully kind-hearted, woefully untrained, adolescent crybaby to turn into something vaguely akin to a proper successor (if the kid was even willing to. Toshinori… didn’t remember actually asking the boy’s opinion on the matter).

If asked, out of all those and other things, which was the single most relevant thing Toshinori had retained from the whole experience, his answer would probably be a deeper and more nuanced understanding of the word ‘regret’.

[fly-me-to-neptune]

A new home (1: Arrival of the birds)

―Just throw me. I can break it.

Three seconds later, a loud crash shatters the monotony of the murmuring noise of the city. The apartment is now filled with broken glass and the smell of burnt wood. Aquamarine prepares to enter through the smoking hole in the window.

―Be careful, the shards are very sharp ―advises her partner from inside the building.

She raises her eyebrows. But she shouldn’t be surprised, even less so flattered. After all, the gem with whom she's been fusing, researching human culture, and plotting revenge for the past few months is a ruby, therefore, protective behaviour is to be expected.

―Evidently ―she replies, flying delicately inside.

It’s very spacious, like all the other human residences she’s seen. It’s always quite perplexing to her. “Why is nothing adjusted to their size? Do they dislike having the ceiling close to their heads? Do they usually stretch their arms when walking through a hallway?” she usually wonders. The beryl still can’t fathom the thought of such a big area being a strictly private space. Back in homeworld, only high class gems such as herself would get anything more than a hole in the wall to rest in.

Ruby gives her one last glance before turning away from the window. The blue gem does feel grateful for her companion’s attentiveness, so she silently approaches her and begins to remove the shards that have been tangled in her hair. Not noticing this gesture, her comrade takes her first, cautious steps in what is to become their new home... 

No.

Their new hideout. "Homeworld will always be our only true home", the blue gem reminds herself.

Hours earlier, they had come to the conclusion that finding a place to stay, a shelter to train and get stronger as Bluebird and to learn more about earthly customs would be the next step in their plan to get revenge. They had flown here and there, looking for the best place to settle, but they had been incapable of agreeing on any... Until they stumbled upon one of the buildings known as cinemas, of which Mydad had talked wonders about when Bluebird watched movies with him.

―I want to see more of those movies― Ruby had said―. Let’s live here. 

―It is true that they are very didactic. One of the most useful things that can be found on this planet, I’d say― Aquamarine replied, not wanting to admit how entertaining she found them as well, even though Ruby was aware of it and even shared her liking for those strange recordings―. However, this is clearly a public space. It’s best if we get one of the residence destined areas around it.

And so they had done. 

Aquamarine lets a eager smirk form in her face. Once the right place’s chosen and accessed, any gem will instinctively know it’s time to conquer it, and they’re more than ready to kick out any pesky earthlings that dares to oppose them.

She removes the last fragment of glass from Ruby's hair. The faint sound it makes when it falls to the ground causes the red gem to jump a little and give her a questioning look.

―No need to be so tense ―murmurs the beryl, drawing away and crossing her arms instinctively―. This will be easy. A few organics can't compare to us.

―What’s taking them so long, anyway? ―Ruby summons her chisel and takes a few more steps―. We haven't exactly been stealthy. They should be here by now.

―We might have scored an empty residence compartment.

Ruby’s next reply is barely audible:

―That, or we’re about to be ambushed.

They inspect their surroundings once more, not needing to say another word. 

That’s when they notice it. Something distinct from the chaotic noise of cars and voices in the streets can be heard coming from beyond the hallway. Different sounds following the same rhythmic pattern, concurring notes of varying pitches and instruments harmonizing into what is perceived as a single melody. It’s music. Bizarre, terrestrial music, but music nonetheless.

“I never thought about it before. Music is just like fusion, isn’t it?” muses the blue gem, before immediately having to shake off the swarming memories of the time spent with Ruby as Bluebird Azurite.

They advance through rooms of floral wall paper and light wooden floor, filled with all sorts of unfamiliar items, until they reach what, structurally speaking, appears to be the main area. A room much wider and nicely illuminated. It’s where the music is coming from.

And there’s a human, right there, humming along. 

She’s sitting in a rocking chair that creaks every so often, undisturbed by the smoke dancing in the cold air current that now connects the invasors’ entrance hole with one of the windows in the room, open by a narrow gap. She’s absorbed on a enigmatic task involving colored fibres. 

What’s with her lack of reaction? The music isn’t loud enough to have concealed the crash, not even close! The gems share a puzzled look. The smaller one feels a sudden urge to laugh, but she stops herself in time and just makes a quick grimace to try to express her exasperation at the ―oh, so erratic!― behaviour of Earth’s organics. Ruby smiles widely in response, appearing to be repressing a chuckle herself. 

Oh.

Aqua still hasn’t gotten used to seeing her smile. It somehow makes it harder for her to breathe, even if only for a couple of seconds. Perhaps it’s because she would never have expected to see such a gesture coming from who, at first, seemed like a tough, stoic, emotionally closed off ruby soldier; even less so, directed at her. Yet, it has been happening quite often.

She looks away. She wants to breathe like normal again, not think about her companion’s entrancing, dark scarlet eye.

Suddenly feeling impatient, she flies across the room to reveal herself to the human. “Let’s get this over with” she thinks, forcing herself to focus, “I’ll just distract her so Ruby can get the upper hand”. With an acceptable amount of grace, she lands on a small table near the window and, as soon as she turns to directly face the organic, she confirms with a sly glance that the red gem has understood her intentions and is already sneaking towards the creature. The beryl smiles.

―Greetings, human.

No reaction. Again. 

Despite its seeming convenience, it’s starting to get annoying for the aristocrat. Be it a positive or negative one, she enjoys getting a reaction out of others, and she’s definitely not used to just being ignored like a simple pebble. Not to mention that the way someone reacts always gives her a lot of valuable information about what could be their usual behaviour, their current state of mind and about how she can assure a position of psychological superiority. 

What can she conclude out of this lack of response? She’s not sure. And she doesn’t like not being certain about where she stands in. She detests it.

But she’s not alone against the strange creature. Ruby jumps to the organic’s seat, grabbing one of the wooden bars of its structure to secure a high position and, efficiently as always, points her chisel to her neck. The chair rocks and creaks violently, as if complaining about the roughness of the gem soldier.

Confident in that she isn’t gonna be tuned out this time, the blue gem clears her throat and announces:

―I think you’d be interested in knowing that, from now on, we are taking possession of your cute little residence hole.

―It’s a pretty big one though ―The red gem murmurs, impressed by Aquamarine’s assertion. Tsk, tsk. That’s not the point, Ruby! The point is to make the unresponsive human feel insignificant and intimidated... which seems to still not be working, in any case.

A few awkward seconds pass by.

―I was under the impression human beings were territorial.

―Yeah. This is weird. Besides, she’s not screaming―. Ruby squints as she looks the organic up and down.― And they always scream.

The two gems wait a couple minutes, in which only the music is heard. But the strange creature is really not reacting to them, she just keeps trying to imitate the melody with her own feeble voice as her hands tangle the colored fibers.

Aquamarine finally loses interest. She decides to hover around and examine the objects that catch her eye.

It doesn't take her long to get to the record player.

―Finally. I was getting sick of that noise ―her fusion partner celebrates when Aqua removes the disc to inspect its material.

―What a waste of resources. Look! This barely contains a few minutes of melody,― she explains, running a finger over the markings of the record’s surface―. Why not just use a living human for auditive diversions? They would surely have room for more variety.

Ruby shrugs, not too interested. She continues to grip her chisel, staring menacingly at the organic, who still hasn’t stopped humming despite the interruption of the record’s music.

―Well, y’know. Humans don’t do that. Organics don’t devote themselves to a purpose. ―The frown on Ruby’s face deepens as a gust of wind shakes the curtains and brings in the distant laughter of children―. They just wander around aimlessly. 

―Well, if they usually sing this poorly, I suppose that’s for the best ―she giggles―. I’m not made for singing, but I bet I could do it a thousand times better.

At last, she’s caught Ruby’s full attention. She’s looking at her with curiosity shining in her eye. Not that that’s a good thing. She should continue keeping watch of the organic while Aquamarine explores around. There’s no reason for Aqua to sing the earthly melody that’s got stuck on the back of her mind, no reason to try to impress an already agreeable comrade. Right?

And so, the blue gem averts her gaze yet again and both of them fall back into their roles.

[marshmallowprotection]

Serendipity

Pairing: Kang Jaehee/Main Character 

Bio: It's been nice to get into the groove of working in the café with Jaehee, but the two of you keep butting heads over the little things. How will you settle it?

For the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang Project. @mysme-rbb

[Read on AO3]

[Check out my Partner here.]

It wasn’t as easy as you thought to get a business up and running. Well, you certainly didn’t think it was a cakewalk, but it was a lot more involved than you assumed.

But, you supposed that was how anyone felt about their business. Jaehee knew the in��s and out’s well after spending so much time working with Jumin, however, there were still so many factors to consider that she had to take note of as you two were working hard on the business model for the café.

She had taken care of so much without even batting an eyelash. From making sure that things with the renovation were going properly, to ensuring that all the little touchings for the interior were to your liking as you had decided upon after making countless sketches, and that wasn’t at all to disregard how she’d been working on brewing the menu of drinks.

Jaehee was astounding, frankly.

Every single day you were able to learn something that you hadn’t known about her and it just drew you to want to be closer to Jaehee. She was passionate and it showed in how much thought she put into the smallest things. It could be as simple as trying to make sure that the napkins had the right color and energy.

Or, it could be as big as picking which tables and machinery to use. As long as she was there, you knew that you had nothing to worry about in terms of getting things to stay on track. You had a bit harder time trying to schedule things and make sure that they were following the path that they needed, so having Jaehee there made things possible without any messes!

To clarify, you thought, messes that involved construction and order were things you didn’t have to concern yourself with.

If it was in regards to a teeny mess in the kitchen?

That was kind of another thing entirely to talk about with your partner. There was plenty of work to be done and you were busy most of the time working to make sure that you had everything you needed for the day to clean up right as you worked.

Which, often led to Jaehee clicking her tongue and sighing at your work ethic. You just beamed whenever she came around and found just a bit of flour or other ingredients resting against the chopping block or the sink. You would get to things just as soon as you rotated through your fast cycle. It was how you functioned and how your brain layered your tasks.

While she thrived on order and structure to get things done, you had moments of relishing the freedom of the moment and letting your creativity wander. Some people would say that it was a partnership that had stormy seas ahead; but, honestly? Having someone willing to work outside of the box with someone who danced closer to the lines meant you had perfect harmony.

You didn’t have to always see eye to eye to be close to someone, nor did you have to agree to get things done.

Opposing views, as you had experienced, had allowed you and Jaehee to be able to find a lot of middle ground that would benefit more people than just yourselves. It opened the shop to more than just one crowd of people that wanted to drop by.

You both wanted this café to flourish with which meant putting your heads together to make progress!

Though, while your differing views had blended just fine thus far, the one thing that the two of you were having trouble with had to do with the menu of the café. She had carefully crafted the brews from the roast to the cup. However, where you two had a problem was trying to find that staple item on the menu.

It was that one thing that people would always drop by to try or were buzzing about when they talked about the place. After all, just focusing on drinks wouldn’t quite attract just anyone to see the place for themselves. You had a few ideas yourself and so did Jaehee, but you just couldn’t agree at all on what you should go with.

Your mind told you to go for gold by something big and flashy and Jaehee was focused on something simple, but not too plain.

It was seemingly the only thing that you couldn’t agree on. There were far too many pastries and cakes to pick from to settle on just one thing to be the centerpiece. Which, is what led the two of you to come to the conclusion that you had reached today.

In the kitchen of the café with loads of sweets on the counter for no reason other than the fact that:

“Well, if we simply cannot settle this by looking at our notes, then we should make everything that we believe to be a strong contender, [Y/N].”

“A good ol’ fashioned bake-off, then, huh?”

“I think those terms are agreeable.”

“Bring it on.”

Of course, neither you nor Jaehee set a limit on how many things you had in mind, which meant that the kitchen had way more snacks than you could eat by yourselves in just a day or two. That would certainly wind up going to the rest of the RFA when you were done if they were fool-hardy enough to walk into the café today.

You wouldn’t deny that it was fun, though.

To be in the kitchen together while the low hum of the radio echoed throughout the room, your eyes lingering on Jaehee when she thought that you were caught up in reading your notes and pausing to stir something with careful ease. These were the moments when you got to see a side of Jaehee that nobody else ever got the chance to view.

That side of Jaehee warmed your heart and brought warmth to your face. She was always so cute when she worked like this. She pursed her lips just so and would tap the tip of the pen against her lips whenever she made notes and correlations to her plans as she sampled and changed her final goal.

She didn’t know how adorable it was.

Not that you let a day go by without reminding her how much you appreciated having her in your personal space. She would always blush and cough to compose herself, looking away before she slid her hand into your own before you headed home for the evening after closing up the shop for the day.

One of these days she would be able to face you and tease you back without hesitation, but you were okay waiting for that day. These moments where she challenged you and kept you on your toes were just as fun and interesting to you to have and to hold. Though, this time, you wanted to be able to show her that you were capable of being able to prove that your choice was right.

“How’s it going over here?” you asked, continuing to stir the bowl in your hands as you made eye contact with Jaehee. “Ready to admit defeat, Jaehee?”

She chuckled. You knew that sound. She was always ready to stand her ground. You knew that whatever she had planned might’ve upstaged whatever you were thinking. So, you knew when she smiled, it was time to test the waters to see, “I assure you that I won’t be giving up so easily.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a battle if you didn’t give it your all,” you countered. You took a few steps into her side of the kitchen just to get a little glimpse at her plans. You just needed to give her a little push to get on her good side. Setting down your work next to hers, you caught her hand in your own with a wink.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

You brought her hand to your lips and brushed them against the palm of her palm. “Oh, nothing, I just wanted to make sure that these things were in working order,” you said and watched as the heat rose from her neck to her cheeks in a matter of seconds. “Don’t you think you should take a little break?”

“And let you get ahead of me?” her narrowed brow told you that she knew what you were trying to do but she wasn’t going to stop you. “We both know where that game goes at the end of the day, [Y/N.] So, what are you playing at?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to get you to take a break. I love this song, I thought you earned a dance for your hard work. We can’t take things so seriously that we forget to have a little downtime in the meantime, you know?”

“...No funny business, got it?”

“No promises.”

Jaehee allowed you to pull her close into a slow and swaying dance. She was light on her feet and kept her eyes on you the entire time. You knew that you could count on her to be watching your every move. She was always acutely aware of every detail.

So, you were more than happy to twist and turn around that kitchen without a second thought.

The heart-strung melody of a familiar song was the only thing that you needed. That, and having Jaehee close to you. She made you feel at home and alive. You hoped that she felt the same way as it was often difficult for her to express those thoughts aloud. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel like you did, she was just…

Still getting used to sharing her emotions with others without feeling like she needed to ball them up and away. Her home life had taught her to keep herself withdrawn and learning how to let go of that was like learning how to ride a bike. It wasn’t impossible but it was tedious and one of those things that took time and patience to work out.

You dipped her back and she sputtered but trusted you not to drop her on her butt. You never would… unless there was a cushion there to brace her fall from grace, anyway. The look in her brown eyes never got old and you craved to see it every time that she shared it with you so tenderly.

As you helped Jaehee back onto two legs, she could feel you moving her back and back until her hip bumped against the counter. She glanced between you and the ground before you caught her face in your open palm, leaning over to brush your lips against her cheek.

She instantly reacted to your affection by moving back a smidge, her hand knocking into both of your bowls, mixing the two.

“Oh, no!”

“[Y/N], you got carried away again!”

“I didn’t mean to!” You laughed it off as best you could. Though, you couldn’t help but think the pink shade of the batter you had created was turning a deep blush thanks to Jaehee’s handiwork of her own creation. She huffed and puffed as you tried to make sense of the mess and see if it could be mended.  

Curious, you dipped a hand into the batter to give it a taste. It reminded you of something sweet and fruity, but you couldn’t quite discern what was in it.

It tasted really good, though.

“Jaehee, wait, come and try this,” you nudged her to come back to your side, bumping a spoon next to her lips to let her try. She tried only due to your insistence on the matter, pausing as she took in the flavor and nodded. “I think we’ve figured out what we’re going to have. Instead of red velvet, we can have a pink velvet!”

“We should’ve done this to start with,” she said, with a little laugh. Her warm cheeks were still reddened with embarrassment. “I guess it’s not always wrong to put things together to see if they work out.”

“Of course not, that’s why we work so well together.”

“Pffft, hahaha. I think this is going to turn out great.”

“Us, or the cakes?”

“Both.”

[writefinch]

Dear Dairy, Pt.1 (cn: noncon, Mm, kidnap, emphasis on *forced* feminization, induced lactation, milking, bondage, drugging, induction of gender dysphoria in a cis guy, things of that nature)

7th July 2018

Cold day today. I dusted off my scarves for the first time this year. Not literally, they'd been vacuum sealed and packed away when the weather turned in October. I threw out the red and yellow knit scarf, something I should have done last year, as it's far too Harry Potter. I was going to pick out the UMIST scarf but that felt a touch dull for the first scarf of the year. In the end I picked out the green silk paisley, which I felt provided a contrast with the pink shirt. I wore them with the second-hand grey Armani that I've yet to have tailored; I haven't yet decided if it's worth the trouble. I'm leaning towards yes, as I received two compliments today, one from Jason's database administrator, a charming and flirtatious--to say nothing of attractive--lady from Perth. We've talked about the possibility of meeting up for drinks at some point, and I'm increasingly inclined to take her up on the offer.

Experiment C2 is adjusting to his newfound freedom since his release last week. It was sad to see him go, and I'll cherish the time we spent together, our first night especially when he violently objected to the idea of servicing me. Oh, how he kicked and fought, clawing at his neck chain, scratching me, biting, swinging wildly. He bloodied my nose rather viciously and left me in no mood for sex that night, to the extent that I almost let him go entirely.

Of course, his demeanor changed altogether after I bagged him. A clear plastic bag over his head, taped around his neck, watching him gasp and writhe for air that isn't there, screaming his silly little head off until he's sure that he's taken his final breath, then tearing a tiny hole over his nostrils. I let him suck in four generous lungfuls of air before I bagged him the second time, and I went through seven bags before allowing him a rest. After that he became such an agreeable and solicitous cocksleeve you'd have thought he was raised in a merchant marine!

Still, he was unsuitable both physiologically and psychologically for the experimental interventions, and I only have so much space in the cellar, so I had to let him go. Some of my social acquaintances are keeping a close eye on him. He's been told that running his mouth will lead to nothing but the cold grave, and I believe he's a bright enough lad to take that to heart.

I'm beginning the search for his replacement tomorrow.

20th July 2018

I've found him! I've found him I've found him, he is everything I've been looking for, he is perfect, it is as if God placed that boy on earth for no other purpose than my need for him. I can barely contain my excitement.

He is an itinerant surf bum, twenty years of age, single, underemployed, estranged from his family. He has flowing blond hair, a few wisps under his chin that can barely be called a beard, deep brown eyes, and a lithe, rangy figure that seems to be slowly growing into the top-heavy carrot-shaped build of a classic surfer. He's been living in town since May, surfing most days, doing temp jobs, lodging in the spare bedroom of a friend of mine.

What a perfect physique! His body is accustomed to being dashed over rocks and whipped by surf, what fun I will have finding and surpassing his tolerances for pain! Oh, to restrict and ration out air to a boy who has trained himself to hold his breath underwater since he was a young teenager, to see those taut muscles stretched over a rack, I cannot wait, I can't wait.

I won't speak or write his name. I now take every action with the foregone conclusion that he is mine, and that he is already Experiment C3. In my mind, he is already in my cellar.

My friend has kindly allowed him to get behind on his rent, and C3 apparently plans to move to Sydney in ten day's time, driving out across the country in his decade-old Ford Ka, surfboard strapped to the roof. When he disappears a few days before that, people will assume he left to avoid paying his rent.

They won't be wrong, in a sense. C3 won't be worrying about rent for a long, long time...

26th July, 2018

It hasn't been an easy choice, and it is in fact a decision I've been struggling with for some time now, but I've decided to let my hair go grey. I'm almost forty for heaven's sake, and I noticed my first grey a year before the financial crisis. Ever since then I've been religious in my application of dye and toner, carefully concealing each and every one of the pale little buggers that pops up, but it's gone from something I'd do after a haircut to something I'm doing twice a week. I won't rush it, I'm going to ease off the dye over the course of the next year or so, but by next July I'll be au naturelle salt and pepper.

Work remains dull but tolerable. I know I'm blessed to be able to do most of my duties from home given my hobbies, but there's a certain sense of removal from everything, as if it's not really a job at all and I'm back at university doing a coursework-intensive compulsory module. On the other hand, I do enjoy going to the office in a way that I did not when I was going there five days a week!

Experiment C3 is screaming his head off again, I think. It's very faint, and I've turned off the air conditioning in the sitting room so I can hear it coming up from below. I suppose I can't blame the boy, given the circumstances. He hasn't seen me since the drugs wore off, and he's in the same configuration I first kept C2 in: his feet are in snowboard boots and locked into clips in the floor, his neck is in a steel collar connected to an eyebolt on the floor by a one-metre chain, his wrists are cuffed and pulled up towards the ceiling by another chain, he has noise-cancelling headphones strapped over his ears blaring white noise, and he's wearing a blindfold snug enough to prevent him from even blinking underneath it.

He's been there for seven hours now, since three in the morning. He can neither stand nor sit nor lie down, he cannot turn around, he cannot see--though it is pitch black in the cellar even if he wasn't blindfolded--he cannot hear his own voice, and I very much doubt he has any idea how he got there.

As I said, I haven't been down to see him properly yet, so I'm monitoring him at a distance via CCTV and also his pulse and blood oxygen readings. I'm keeping him watered through an IV drip and I'm not at all worried about feeding him just yet, though I'm sure he'll be getting hungry given that I emptied out the contents of his guts with an enema while he was still unconscious. I want him properly good and woozy from sleep deprivation before I introduce myself, either forty-eight hours or until his vitals get a tad skiffy, whichever is shorter. By my word, I am not an impatient man!

Of course, given the close monitoring required, I'll only be getting a few more hours sleep than he will. I suspect I'm getting the better half of the deal. Ah, the poor thing just wet himself. He needn't worry, it's all going into the bucket between his feet, and it'll go to good use later.

I've calmed myself down since his capture, for practical reasons as much as anything else, but I am still abuzz with energy. I am already looking forward to writing my next entry!

28th July 2018

I introduced myself to C3 today.

He spent an impressively long time in the stress position before he was unable to push his legs and instead dangled from his wrists, almost twelve hours, at which point I let the wrist rope go slack and allowed him to collapse. To prevent him from sleeping I intermittently blasted him with high pressure cold water whenever his pulse dropped below 100, for about a further four hours until I decided he'd had enough rest and strung his wrists back up.

He lasted five hours that time, so I let his wrists down again and stood sentry with a paintball gun, giving him a good and proper three-round burst whenever he stopped whimpering. Up again, barely an hour, down again, where I pinned him to the floor with wiring from an electric fence, set to deliver low-intensity zaps across his arms and chest whenever it seemed as if sleep was a possibility. He only got a few shocks, I think the first few put him in such a state of alarm that he didn't dare relax enough to be given another.

I strung him up a few more times, sometimes combining the motivators--his quivering thighs made a delightful target for paintballs as he tried to hold them in a crouching squat--until we reached the forty-ninth hour. I then played my recorded introduction tape through his headphones. It was identical to the one I'd played for C1 and C2, which was itself similar to the one recorded for B4 through B9.

Of course, as the deaf and blindfolded boy was crouch-squatting in place hearing my voice tell him that his old life was forfeit, that he was livestock now, that he would be used as a sex slave, that disobedience would only lead to misery, and the details of the hormone treatments he would be on, I was standing in front of him, masturbating.

My timing was impeccable. Just as the last lines of the recording said "if you're wondering when you'll meet me, I'm right in front of you," I came all over his whorish face. I'm afraid I'm no Peter North, I've no more than four spurts and the first one is always rather watery, but I nailed him right between the lips with one burst and smeared the rest over his face with the tip of my cock. He froze up rather delightfully during the whole ordeal, barely flinching as I cleaned off the tip in his hair.

I took the microphone and spoke directly into his headphones. I told him he'd been in his predicament for two days so far, that he was to obey my simple instructions, and that if he did he would be allowed food and allowed to rest. I told him that I would not require him to speak at any point during these instructions, and that if he so much as whispered I'd keep him strung up without food for another two days. He nodded in agreement, which earned him a hard slap, as I'd not asked him to nod or shake his head. I told him then to nod if he understood, which he did.

I freed one of his arms at a time, telling them to keep them in place and move them only as and when I told him to move them. He obeyed--a far quicker learner than C1--and I put him into the straitjacket. I unlatched his boots one at a time, putting him in ankle cuffs with a short length of heavy chain between them. I injected him in the buttocks with his first dose of anti-androgens, a painkiller, and his hormonal cocktail, and I removed the IV from his arm.

At that point I led him to his cage, a 2x3 metre cell, 1.5 metres high. I removed his blindfold, though it did him little good as it was pitch black in the entire room--I'd switched off the lights and was working via a set of light amplification goggles--and pushed him onto the wipe-clean bedroll.

"Lie still like a good little boy until the lights turn on, and then you can help yourself to some food," I said to him. He made a sound as if to respond, then silenced himself, lying still in his bonds.

The lights were on a timer, and they came on harsh and bright when I was upstairs, watching him through the CCTV on my desktop with a fresh pot of coffee. Three of the walls of his cage were walled off with a tarp, allowing him to see about a fifth of the basement through the remaining wall. Inside his cage was his bedroll, a doggie bowl full of oatmeal and bananas, a small plastic trough filled with fresh water, and a litter tray.

I considered staying up and watching him, seeing the fear grow in his eyes, his first attempt at eating cold food without the use of his hands, the humiliation of pissing in a litter tray, but I was exhausted. As soon as I've finished writing this entry, I'm going to take a well-deserved nap.

4th October 2018

The truffle salt from Coles is a waste of time. Don't misunderstand me, it's useable, it's palatable, and it has the necessary truffle aroma. "Has" is the key word there, it's got the half-life of Fermium and after a week in the cupboard it's now just table salt with black specks in it. I think I'm going to invest in some decent truffle oil at Christmas.

C3 is coming along marvelously. The combination of injections and a high-fat, high-calorie, vitamin-rich diet have had a visible impact on his physique. His skin has softened even further from a clear and healthy surfer's complexion to almost peachlike smoothness and he now has visible jiggle on his thighs, stomach and buttocks. Most importantly, he's now the not-at-all-proud owner of a set of A-cup breasts, complete with sensitive, pebble-sized nipples.

His breasts are extremely sensitive. He's told me as much directly, but I've confirmed it through experimental means. A few light stripes under the nipples with the cane used to bring a wince to his face when he first came under my care, now it brings him to his knees, and the mere sight of the thing leads him to cry and whine rather prettily.

He did have some issues with portion control, in that he wasn’t eating the full servings of food I had prepared for him. This was unreasonable and short-sighted on his part: while plain, I have not asked him to eat anything that I wouldn't willingly eat myself, and while I am not a professional cook I am certainly a talented amateur.

The solution was a simple one: if even a smear of food remains in his dish, I do not feed him for the next two to four days. I only had to enforce this rule twice, and he's finished every meal I've put in front of him for the past two months.

He's gone without sleeping for the last forty-eight hours, he's gone without speaking for the last three weeks, and I've added a low dose of LSD to his drinking water. Tonight he should be somewhat tractable for the induction of a hypnotic state. I am not trying to control his behaviour--there's nothing I want him to do that I couldn't compel him to do through more reliable means--but for an in-depth interview. In concert with a lie detector and a regulated dose of barbiturates, I am going to make him bare his soul to me.

There are a few specifics I'm interested in, such as confirming my assessment of his sexuality and gender identity, and it never hurts to shore up my security by inquiring of any planned means of escape or rescue, but in great part I am doing this for morale effect: I want him to have no respite from me, even inside his own mind. He will learn that he has no more control of his thinking than he does of his eating, sleeping or exercising.

Speaking of which, I had to leave him in an armbinder for a few nights when he insisted on doing press-ups in his cell. The additional restraints distressed him greatly, and he's seemed afraid to even move lest I restrain him further. That was back in August, and I have since acquired an elliptical trainer which I allow him to use daily, good behaviour permitting.

I will write again tomorrow with details of tonight's interview, and I only hope it's more productive than C2's interview was.

5th October 2018

Well, that was elucidating.

I left C3 unrestrained for the interview. It was his first time free of shackles and cuffs outside of his cage since he'd arrived, as I wanted him to be relatively comfortable and I was confident that his drug cocktail would prevent any serious escape attempts.

He is not a natural hypnotic subject and I was only successful in inducing a semi-trance state. I don't think he achieved a trance, but I think he believed he was in a trance, and for my purposes that was more than sufficient. He talked for hours and provided an unabridged history of his life so far. His parents, his brothers, his schooling, his love of surfing and camping, his romantic attachments and rejections, his childhood friends and bullies, his fear of dogs, his earliest memories, his deepest shames, enough to fill a short memoir.

The interview lasted for ten hours, with breaks every two hours to allow him to pee (as I'd also allowed him to drink lime cordial from a cup while he spoke) and to adjust his dose of drugs and deepen his trance state. He cried frequently and easily. He bears a great amount of shame and guilt for someone so young and so relatively innocent--raised by Catholics, naturally--and spent half of the fifth hour in uncontrollable hysterics. I let him rest his head in my lap and stroked his hair as he cried, and he clung on to me like a man drowning. Once he ran out of tears he had a bout of cathartic laughter, and after that a calm passed over him, and he remained in a state of detached, cooperative calm until I ended the interview.

Of course, most of this was filler and background information for the parts that truly interested me: his sexuality and gender identity. Both were perfect. His sexuality is less important but still delightful. He is entirely heterosexual and repulsed by men. He still has nightmares about the one time I have molested him so far, when I coated his face with cum shortly after his chapter. You wouldn't believe how hard I got as he told me that!

He sometimes masturbates in his cage, which he tells me is mostly from boredom than any sexual desire, and he fantasizes about sex with women. He has little interest in sadomasochism, no interest whatsoever about taking a submissive role, and aside from a weak interest in pegging he is plain vanilla. He has fantasies about sex in public, fucking multiple women, being woken up by receiving oral sex, and seducing older women.

His gender identity is much the same: male, through and through. He has insecurities about being slight and physically unimposing--related to bullying in school--and about being insufficiently masculine. He takes pride in the callouses in his hands and the scars on his body from surfing, and wishes that the thin, pale stubble on his face was thicker.

It's of little surprise then that he finds the changes from the hormones to be a cruel and unwanted imposition. His breast growth makes him feel powerless and disgusted with himself, he can feel his muscles weakening, the tenderness in his breasts is terrifying and degrading, and even the topic of penile and testicular shrinkage made him choke up and sob. He says that even when I allow him to sleep, his mind feels clouded and he finds it increasingly difficult to identify the particulars of his emotional state, which swings and changes in ways he is not used to.

Again, I must reiterate how promising this is. My experiments concern the induction of sexual neuroses and physical development on non-consenting subjects. C1 was unsuitable because he--well, she, more likely--was a little too keen to embrace the role I had planned for her.

C3 is sleeping now. I haven't actually left our impromptu "therapy room" and he's drifted off with his head in my lap. He needs the rest. I have big plans for him, after all.

24th October, 2018

I took a trip to the cinema today. Specifically the single-screen cinema in the back of the adult bookshop. C2 is turning tricks for the manager. I don't think it's his first career choice but for some reason he's been unable to get a job anywhere else in town. He tried being an independent streetwalker for a while, which didn't work out well for him as he was quickly picked up by the local police and treated rather roughly. Almost as if they were keeping an eye on him!

The manager of the adult bookshop got in touch with him, I believe he was waiting for him outside the local lockup in fact, and informed him of a safe, reliable means of plying his trade. Now he sucks cock in the back room cinema along with a handful of other whores in exchange for a roof over his head and ten percent of the ticket sales.

He was apparently given a second tour of the police cells for not handing his tips over to the manager in a timely and honest manner, so his left eye was still swollen shut when I saw him today. His garb was delightful: pastel pink yoga leggings with the Adidas stripes down the sides, and a duck egg blue midriff-cut t-shirt with "BOY" on the chest, with a female gender symbol in place of the O.

I sat down next to him in the otherwise empty cinema and flashed him my ticket, which had set me back $84--worth every penny--and he flashed me a charming smile. There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, like all of my experiments and side projects he'd never seen me without a mask. He put his hand on my thigh and told me his name, which I've already forgotten. The feature began, a rather energetic video from the noughties with Kelly Wells, Hillary Scott and Layla Riviera, prompting C2 to get on his knees in front of me. He gagged a little when he unzipped my jeans, not because I was unwashed but because I'd applied a generous quantity of deodorant and aftershave so that he would not recognise me via scent.

I enjoyed a slow, leisurely blowjob for the next hour, where he displayed all the basic techniques I'd so painstakingly taught him as well as a few new ones he'd picked up more recently. There's something to be said about consuming porn this way, not just the oral service but also watching the film from the beginning, without skipping forward to my favorite parts or switching between videos, letting myself slowly build towards my climax at the same pace as the on-screen action. I came just before the money shot, pulling out to cum all over C2's face as Kelly Wells guzzled piss on the big screen, and let C2 lick and suck my balls until the credits rolled.

Before he or I got up, I took out $20, waved it in front of his eyes, and then used the notes to wipe cum up from his face. He flinched at the roughness, scowled, told me to cut it out, and put his hand on my leg as if to push away from me. I said three words.

"Punishment position three."

It was as if I'd reached inside him and squeezed. He let out a pitiful squeak, straightened up on his knees, pushed out his chest, put his hands behind his back, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and let his tongue hang out. I stuffed the cum-soaked banknotes between his mouth.

"Be good, C2," I told him as I stood up. He didn't move a muscle as I walked out of the cinema, and as the door closed behind me, I heard a single muffled sob. It was an enjoyable experience and I certainly needed it after the last few days because C3 has really been a handful.

It began on the weekend when the first signs of lactation appeared. C3 has been getting increasingly upset with the changes to his body, his widening hips, his weight gain, his shrinking musculature, his shrinking genitalia, and his C-cup breasts. The breasts are especially upsetting, he complains that they ache constantly and are tender to the slightest touch. In any case, when the first droplets of milk dribbled out of his nipples something snapped.

Through tears, he told me that he refuses to eat, that he cannot live with the things I am doing to him, and that I should either let him go or kill him. Obviously this is unacceptable. I told him I was not treating his request with any seriousness, and that if he did not eat his meal, he would go without for the next several days. He nodded forlornly, but still refused the food.

I strapped his hands into leather mitts to prevent him from improvising methods of self-harm, and continued as normal. For the next three days, he refused to respond to commands or obey orders, remaining silent and going limp. He wailed in pain when I caned his soles and slapped his tits, but he continued to wallow in self-pity.

He was ravenously hungry by Wednesday, but when I gave him the opportunity to eat, he would not. I left the bowl of food in his cage overnight, and in the morning it remained untouched. He had not thrown it out or despoiled it, he had simply ignored it in an admirable, if misplaced, display of willpower. I gave him one final warning that there would be serious consequences if he did not eat now. He refused, so I applied the consequences.

I fitted him into a padded restraining board, on his back, his arms, legs, chest, stomach, forehead, chin, wrists and ankles held in place by canvas straps. He could not move an inch, not that he was trying particularly hard. A hollow dildo gag with a breathing hole went into his mouth, principally to prevent him from trying to bite off his own tongue. I catheterized him and inserted a hollow plug into his backside, not overly gently in either case, much to his consternation.

Then, intubation. I fed a heavily-lubricated silicone hose into his left nostril. He thrashed and twitched, as is expected when such a procedure is performed without the aid of benzodiazepines. Undeterred, I asked him to start swallowing, lest the tube end up in his lungs. He did as much gagging as swallowing, but after a few eventful minutes I felt the tell-tale glide of it being pulled down his esophagus and into his stomach.

Once the tube was taped in place under his nose, I attached the free end to a pump until it drew fluid out from within him. A few drops of this fluid onto pH paper revealed it to be stomach acid, which hopefully meant that the hose was not in his lungs. I then attached the hose to the feeding machine, and explained to C3 exactly how it would work.

He would have his meals and water combined into a slurry, kept at a cool four degrees celsius, and injected into his feeding tube. The pressure inside the hose would make breathing difficult or impossible while the food was being pumped, and the volume of his meals--around a litre and a half of slurry--meant that each feeding would be spread out in thirty second bursts, delivered semi-randomly over the course of an hour.

As I told him this, I undid my belt and began to masturbate. Despite the obvious temptations, I had not molested C3 in an overtly sexual manner since that first facial at the beginning of his captivity. By combining molestation with removal of autonomy, I wished to impress upon him the importance of obeying me with whatever autonomy I allow him to have.

I pressed the button on the feeding machine as I approached my climax. C3 squealed and gurgled like a drowning cat from the sensation of ice-cold sludge pumping through a tube in his sinuses and down into his throat, choking as the diameter of the tube expanded enough to cut off his breathing. He thrashed in his restraints with such force that he almost moved the gurney beneath him!

Seeing tears stream from his eyes was too much, and his eyes were precisely where I aimed. I landed a good few ropes on each eye, which he scrunched shut in disgust. When the tube stopped pumping I pried open his eyelids with my fingers and made sure a good quantity of my burning, stinging cum got in each eye, then smeared the rest across his face. He tried to blink it out, with little success, and before he could do much else I applied the padded blindfold. He hates and fears the eye-shutting pressure from the neoprene padding at the best of times, and wasn't overjoyed to wear it with his eyes gunked up with sperm.

He's been like that for the last three days, unable to move, speak or see, fed three meals a day through his nose. The only interaction he's had is when I've unrestrained his individual limbs and allowed them some movement, one at a time, to prevent bedsores and deep vein thrombosis, and when I come down to grope his sensitive tits. He is only able to relieve himself through the catheter and through enemas.

After a few days of stick, he's almost ready for the carrot. Tonight I am making pork carnitas with soft tacos, which he has told me is his favourite meal. I have also purchased one of the Harry Dresden books, which he told me he is an avid reader of. When dinner is ready, I will make him an offer: he will ask me for normal food and apologize for forcing me to use the feeding tube. In return he will be allowed out of his restraints and returned to his comfortable cage, along with his favourite meal and a good book, which he will be allowed to read during his spare time as long as he behaves himself.

I hope he accepts, for his sake and mine.

16 November 2018

C3 had his first true milking today! I've been teasing dribbles of milk from his nipples with my fingers for weeks, but today the volume was so high that I had to deploy a handheld breast pump. He whimpered for the duration but was obviously relieved by the reduction in pressure. It was as if he found the whole ordeal rather humiliating.

The milk is rich, a touch gamey, and less sweet than expected. I don't think the taste will be anything to write home about while his stress levels are so high, and I think that will be the case for some time. I've taken half for myself, and I'm mixing the other half into his food.

He's been docile since the force feeding. The intensity and inevitability of the punishment is part of it, but the rewards are equally important. My deal is that he can ask for anything once. Obviously I laugh at certain requests--he's not getting a phone or a two-way radio--and some things require compromise, but otherwise I have been accommodating. His cell now contains a lamp he can turn on or off, two dozen books and graphic novels, an old mp3 player, and a box of wet wipes. His relief from the constant boredom of being confined in a cage for twenty hours a day is palpable, and he has chosen the comfort that obedience brings over the misery that stems from disobedience.

He has asked if he'll ever be free from this basement and I truthfully said yes. One day he'll be walking around outside free of physical restraints and he will sleep at night in a bed he can truly call his own, though I'm unsure if he'll ever truly be free of me. He takes comfort in the fact that he has not yet seen my face or anything that might identify me, as he reasons that I am therefore not incentivized to bury him in a shallow grave to protect myself. His conclusion is correct but his premise is wrong; he'll know who I am eventually and I still won't fear him.

I'm currently milking him once per day regardless of his feelings on the matter, and I think this has hidden from him the fact that he now needs to be milked. Without his daily milkings the pain in his breasts would become unbearable, and soon he will develop mastitis if he's not milked. This will form another important part of his development: begging for things that are distasteful but necessary. With the exception of the wet wipes, there is nothing inherently humiliating in the things he's asking for. I believe he'll find begging to be milked intensely humiliating, and more humiliating still because of the tolls I'll extract from him when he goes down that road.

A brief note on his physical changes: his breasts are bigger but they remain C-cups for the time being. There are now a striking set of stretch marks on the sides and undersides of his breasts, along with some smaller, subtler ones on his thighs and buttocks which have also thickened up nicely. At some point I'm going to give him a regular schedule of retention enemas until he gets stretch marks on his belly befitting a pregnant little broodslut. His skin is delightfully soft and I'm shaving his face daily until the home electrolysis kit arrives. The combination of hormones, daily exercise bike sessions, and a lack of any upper body resistance training has changed his physique from a surfer's build to a more bottom heavy one.

As soon as I have finished writing this entry I am going to give him two gifts. The first gift is an ear piercing. It will be home to a yellow plastic tag, a miniature version of a cattle tag. The second gift is his name. He's not C3 anymore, and he's certainly not whatever stupid name he called himself before I acquired him. He has lovely tits and he's a milk cow, so his name will be Cowtits.

Cowtits. I think it suits him.

[lobster-tales]

Pining - Azutara

Day 3 of Winter ATLA Femslash Week 2021. This work is also available here on AO3. 

Prompt: Braids/Hair Braiding or Pining

Katara arrives home after another late night of tracking down an assassin. To her surprise, the assassin tracked her down instead. Basically a Killing Eve AU. Blood CW. 

Thud! “Fuck.” Katara glared down at the dropped grocery bag. She continued to fumble with her set of keys, feeling the jagged edges with her fingers in the darkness. After two failed attempts at finding the right fit for the door, she finally felt one of the keys slip inside the lock. Katara adjusted the two other grocery bags in her arms, freeing her other hand to pull the knob towards her. The door, along with the rest of the building, was ancient, and after years of settling, the wood remained stubbornly out of place. 

The lock clicked. She twisted the knob and shoved her weight against the door, but was met with resistance. Katara grunted as she pushed again, keys jingling with each effort. 

A light flickered on above her. Katara winced and turned around. An older woman stood outside one of the other apartment doors, arms crossed. She wore a fierce expression, pink slippers, and a robe that would have been too short on a person of average height. 

“Sorry, Auntie,” Katara whispered. They weren’t related by blood, but the landlady had never introduced herself as anything else. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Auntie hissed. 

“I know, I promise I’ll be more quiet next-”

“If you’re going to be out late, the least you can do is bring home a man!”

“I wasn’t ‘out’,” Katara said defensively. “I was working.”

“Again!” She shook her finger at Katara. “You can’t keep this up forever, you know! You only think you can because you’re young!”

“I know, Auntie.”

“You tell that boss of yours that you need a break! You tell him or I will!”

Katara smiled to herself, picturing her tiny landlady just as she was, robed, slippered, and wagging her finger at the head of the Secret Intelligence Service. “Okay, Auntie.” She pressed against the door again, and this time it chose to relinquish easily. “Goodnight.”

The woman grumbled a goodbye as Katara entered her apartment, dragging in the bag she had dropped earlier. 

Katara sighed, letting the wear of the day slide off her shoulders along with her oversized coat. She abandoned two of the grocery bags at the door, too exhausted to bother with the non-perishable items. Katara carried the third paper bag, now soggy with cold, through the darkness, aiming for the kitchen. Her fingers danced on the wall until she found the switch. 

Light flooded the tiny area. The short, cluttered counter had three bar stools behind it. Sitting upright in the center one, hands folded neatly, was Azula. 

“Oh shit!” Thud. Katara ignored the fallen bag this time, her attention narrowed on the other woman. 

Azula’s long black hair was pulled into an unusually messy top knot, a bruise swelling above her smeared eyeliner. She smiled easily at Katara, flinching as the movement stretched the bloody cut on her lip. “You redecorated.”

“What the fuck are you doing? Just sitting alone in the dark?”

“I wanted to scare you,” Azula said. “I thought it’d be funny. And it was.”

Katara gawked, her expression turning to one of concern. “Are you hurt?”

“A little. I tried to clean up before you got here, but I couldn’t figure out how to work your shower.” Disdain entered her voice as she said, “It seems that the knob was replaced by a wrench.”

“Yeah…” Katara struggled to regain her composure. “Yeah, the uh… maintenance guy is out on vacation.” Her eyes landed on Azula’s left arm, where a strip of yellow cloth had been tied and dyed red. “Oh my god, are you bleeding?”

Azula rolled her eyes. “It’s just a scratch. Turns out some children hate when you try to off their father.” Her features darkened. “Even if he was a complete asshole.” Her mood lightened again, as quickly as it had dimmed. “Either way, I was in the area, and I figured someone as maternal as you could stitch me up.”

“What? I’m not maternal!” 

“So you can’t give me stitches?”

“Of course I can!” Katara finally resumed control of herself. She knelt and picked up the grocery bag, reaching for the spilled contents. “Hold on, let me um… put everything away first.”

“Take your time; I’m in no rush.”

Katara opened the fridge. “They’re not after you?”

“I never leave a trail.” Azula smirked. “This may surprise you, but I’m actually good at my job.”

“Hmph. I’m not,” Katara said. “If I was, I’d be calling my boss right now. I’m supposed to be tracking you down, you know.”

“Aw, all this fuss over me.” Azula propped her elbows on the counter, making a bridge with her interlaced fingers. “I’m touched.”

“At the very least, I should drop you off at the hospital.”

“Ugh, you know how I feel about hospitals.”

Katara gazed at her intently. “And you know how I feel about assassins.”

“Hmm. I actually don’t, but let me guess.” Azula’s golden eyes flickered, like a cat playing with it’s meal. “You feel… ‘Scared’? No, that’s not it. How about ‘intrigued’? Wait, I’ve got it.” She licked her lips, smearing blood with her tongue. “‘Aroused.’”

Blood rushed to Katara’s face. She turned away, changing the subject quickly. “Can I get you anything? Some tea? Vodka?”

Azula leaned back, satisfied with her reaction. “Do you have any cabernet sauvignon?”

“Well for wine, I’ve got…” Katara dragged a large box out of the fridge and dropped it unceremoniously on the counter. “Red.”

***

“Ah!” Azula hissed in pain. 

Katara grinned, pulling the curved needle away from the open wound. “Oh, don’t be a baby.”

“Then stop hacking me to pieces, you maniac.” Azula used her free hand to grab her wine, drinking from a faded London Zoo mug. 

“What did they get you with, anyway?”

“Bullet.” She sighed. “It was my fault, I didn’t move quick enough. Getting sloppy in my old age.”

“We’re only 25, Azula.”

“Yes, and that much closer to death.”

Katara shook her head affectionately. “I guess assassins don’t have long life spans.”

“The good ones do.”

“And you’re one of the good ones?”

Azula’s expression changed. “I was.”

Katara punctured her skin once more with the needle, causing Azula to wince. “You said yourself that you’re good at your job.”

“Yes, usually I finish my assignments flawlessly. But this time…” She looked away. “I… I was clumsy. I made too many mistakes. The son caught me mid-kill. I should have had plenty of time before he arrived, but… I hesitated.”

Katara paused, frowning at her. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Azula said quietly, almost whispering. Katara had never seen her like this: yielding, vulnerable. The sight put her on edge. Any moment, Azula would bounce back, laugh at her for falling for the act. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was a deplorable person. Politician, pushed through policies that left millions of people suffering, not to mention the 4 sexual assault accusations.”

“Oof,” Katara said, pulling on the thread. 

“But… I don’t know,” Azula repeated. “I started by beating him bloody. He liked trophy hunting, so I used the blunt side of some elephant tusks. I’ve done this enough times that I knew the begging would come next. They always beg, offer me money, power. But he just looked me in the eye. Like he was at peace with it, with the consequences of everything he’d done. 

“I’d just caught him fresh out of the bath, so he was still wearing his robe. And he asked me to wait before I killed him. He crawled to his desk, and grabbed something small off the surface. And he put it on his left hand.” She closed her eyes, solemn. “He wanted to die wearing his wedding ring. That asshole, that monster, wanted to die… loved. And he did.”

Katara searched her face, fighting the urge to take Azula’s hand. Even if this was an act, it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that Azula, the assassin she’d spent a year tracking down, fighting with, dreaming about… was crying. 

“After it was done,” Azula said, treating her tears like an inconvenience. “His son came in, caught me with an upper right before he got his hands on one of the shotguns. I was almost out the window when he fired.” She lifted her chin, staring up at the ceiling. The callous bathroom light hit her features, and Katara wondered how someone so clouded by sin could look so holy. “When I fell into the bushes, felt the sting on my arm, I realized I could have been a few inches too far to the left. Or he could have aimed better.” She stiffened her lower lip. “I don’t mind death. It’s always been part of the job, a potential side effect. But if I died, even the most painless, agreeable way...” Azula looked down at her naked left hand, flexing her fingers. “I’d still have it worse than he did.”

They sat in stillness for a moment. In a last ditch attempt, Katara waited for a punchline. A jump scare. Anything. But she was only met with silence. 

Though Azula had stopped crying, Katara was still stricken. During the briefings at MI6, Azula was always described as a psychopath. No feeling, no remorse. After encountering her in real life, Katara had come to the same conclusion. But now…

Katara grazed the top of Azula’s hand with her fingers. They both stared at the action, slowly moving their hands until their palms were pressed together, fingers intertwined. “You won’t die unloved, Azula,” Katara murmured. 

Azula scoffed, a harsh sound after the quiet. “Don’t say that. I could have a heart attack in the next ten minutes, or you could have poisoned the wine.” She flashed a glare at the mug. “Considering the taste, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Smiling, Katara shook her head. “Even if you died right now.”

They both froze, the weight of Katara’s words settling in the air. They met each other’s eyes, lips parted slightly. Katara gulped involuntarily, mind racing. “A-Azu-”

Azula pressed her mouth against hers, swallowing her own name before Katara could finish saying it. Katara tilted her head, letting Azula run her tongue along her lower lip. She tasted like blood and cheap wine. 

After a moment, Azula pulled away. Katara threaded her fingers in her black hair, pulling her back in. Azula chuckled against her mouth, letting Katara kiss her, letting herself be loved. 

[dekatsu]

part 4 of our little adventure with Kuri. click for part 1, 2, 3

Katsuki arrives at his home only to hear shouting in front of his door. He dreads turning the corner and finding Enji Todoroki in front of his apartment, again. The man has the bad habit of stalking his son. 

It’s the worst downside of rooming with Todoroki; every now and then his father will appear in front of their door and demand entry only to be completely ignored by his son. Sometimes Todoroki will shout something back or play music on blast or call the cops when he’s feeling especially gleeful. And sometimes, he’s miserable and hiding and wants nothing to do with the man who continuously abused him. 

It must be Katsuki’s lucky day though because Enji Todoroki has his back turned to him and is busy arguing about whether he has the right to break down the door or not, with a not very impressed Midoriya.

When Katsuki silently approaches his door, hoping no one notices him so he can pass by without incident, Midoriya’s eyes fall onto him. Then Midoriya looks pointedly at the door behind Enji Todoroki before looking back at him again. 

Katsuki gets the hint and hurriedly unlocks the door before he gets inside and slams the door shut, just as Midoriya tries to explain that Todoroki is in fact not home and Midoriya, too, is waiting for him, how about we grab a bite together to catch up?

Katsuki would rather eat shit than spend any time alone with Enji Todoroki. He can appreciate Midoriya taking one for the team though, even if he dislikes the guy.

“Shoutoooo,” Enji Todoroki shouts as soon as he hears the door slam shut. He pounds against the door like an entitled little shit. “I heard you go in! Open the door, we need to talk!”

“Todoroki-san,” Midoriya says, doing something to stop the man from breaking down the door. “That wasn’t Shouto but his roommate. Let’s go get something to eat. I really wanted to catch up with you on a few things.”

“That damn Bakugou brat, always ignoring me! I have the right to visit my s-”

Katsuki doesn’t bother to hear the rest, already out of his shoes and on the way to the bathroom to wash his hands. He sees Todoroki sitting in the living room slowly munching on some treats, headphones on and oblivious to his arrival. 

Kuri is looking at Todoroki, sitting right in front of him, her stare unwavering and unnerving. Once Katsuki gets cleaned up and changed, he joins them in the there and picks Kuri up to pet her. She gives a small hiss but settles in his arms as Katsuki settles on the couch next to Todoroki. 

He waits for thirty minutes after Enji Todoroki is long gone, before he reaches out and plucks the new bag of snacks out of Todoroki’s hands. The guy is a stress-eater, a comfort-eater and generally someone who enjoys stuffing his mouth. Katsuki doesn’t do it often but on days like today, he can’t help but intervene. 

“That’s enough before dinner,” he says once Todoroki actually pays attention to him. “I ain’t sharing food if you're too full to appreciate it.”

“I was only munching a little.”

“It’s your fourth bag, I ain’t blind,” Katsuki remarks, pointing at the trash on the table. “You are cleaning that up and vacuuming the shit out of this place.”

Todoroki stares at him. Katsuki stares back and tries real hard not to comment on his bloodshot eyes. It’s none of his fucking business. So he leaves for the kitchen and prepares a little something for his cat before he starts on dinner for himself. 

Twenty minutes into it, the doorbell rings. Two seconds later, the door to Todoroki’s room slams shut. Katsuki sighs and walks over to the door, checking that it’s not the old bastard before he opens the door to an awkwardly smiling Midoriya. 

“Hello,” he greets. 

Katsuki wants to slam the door shut again but holds it in and goes right back into the kitchen. Midoriya invites himself in and looks around the living room before he joins Katsuki in the kitchen, sitting on an empty stool. 

“Did you think it over?” Midoriya asks, fingers tapping a rhyme against the kitchen table. 

“I did,” Katsuki admits and turns from the oven to look at the nuisance. He crosses his arms and gives his most sarcastic smile. “And I came to the conclusion that you need to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Think about the rent.”

“I’m looking for a second job.”

“This place is way too huge.”

“I’m sure I’ll find someone else.”

“Who would want to room with you?”

“Shut it, Fuckface,” Katsuki snarls, actually offended by that. “I’m a perfectly agreeable person.”

“The words you use,” Midoriya whispers, shaking his head. “I’m continuously impressed by your creativity.”

“I could impress even more. I could stuff your face down the trash.”

That makes Midoriya frown and Katsuki grin. Midoriya is about to open his mouth again but stops when the door to Todoroki’s room opens and he appears in the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to leave. 

“Midoriya,” he greets and walks in to sit on a stool next to the green mop, hands held tight in his lap. “I’m sorr-”

“I came by to talk about the moving arrangements,” Midoriya interrupts him, patting him once on the shoulder, an easy smile on his face. “But Katsuki over there is as stubborn as always. Help me out, Shouto. I just can’t win against him.”

“And you won’t ever. So shut up and leave,” Katsuki tells him and turns away from the frown Todoroki directs at him. He doesn’t care that Todoroki wants him to respect Midoriya. The ass has done nothing but piss him off.

“He loves Kuri,” Todoroki says, which makes Katsuki bristle but he refuses to rise to the bait. “Actually, I was about to leave. I won’t be having dinner with you but I’m sure Midoriya is still hungry. Not like anyone can actually eat with that as company.” The last part was probably supposed to go inaudible but Katsuki hears it clearly and he supposes so does Midoriya, who's closer to Todoroki.

"I'll bite the bullet. What did he do?" 

Katsuki cringes at Midoriya's question but doesn’t turn to look at them. There is silence for a moment before Todoroki stands up to leave. 

Once at the doorway he stops to say, "arranged a marriage for me."

With those parting words, Todoroki leaves them in awkward silence. Katsuki hates it and hates the fact that he doesn’t know how to deal with this shit. It’s not like he can take any cues from their past interactions. To say he doesn’t care at least a little, would be a lie. He’s grown kind of used to his plant and now Todoroki is moving out and Katsuki is still none the wiser where he's concerned. 

So Katsuki plates dinner for two, slams them down on the kitchen table and says, “twenty on him visiting his lover.”

“I’m not betting when I know I’ll lose. Thanks for the food,” Midoriya replies and starts eating. “Don’t worry about him. He's gotten better at dealing with this. He just needs time."

"I ain't worried,"Katsuki mutters around a mouthful of food and ignores Midoriya’s replying hum.

Kuri approaches him when they are done eating so he picks her up and puts her on the table, idly wondering if she gained some weight or if he’s imagining things. He’s been careful with her diet though.

“Kuri really likes you, huh?” Midoriya observes, staring at Kuri. Katsuki snorts, giving her scratches and grinning when she avoids Midoriya’s hand and jumps down the table.

“What’s there not to like? I’m basically playing servant for the little princess.”

“And you like her.” Midoriya is staring at him, fork resting between his lips. Katsuki doesn’t like the contemplative look he’s getting. “I would hate to force you two apart.”

“You little shit,” Katsuki grits out, slamming his hands on the table as he gets up. “This is how you repay me for my food? Threatening to take my cat?”

“Technically it’s my cat.”

“Technically, you’re trespassing. Your damn apartment doesn’t even allow cats.” 

“Yeah,” Midoriya says, handing his plates over when Katsuki stretches his hands out and demands them. “But my lease is ending at the end of next month so I could look for an apartment which allows pets.”

“Why the fuck are you harassing me then?” He angrily scrubs the plates clean before rinsing them out, purposefully turning the tap on to max, to tune out Midoriya’s voice. For a working adult, he sure got a lot of time to harass Katsuki.

“I was going to take some of Shouto’s furniture anyway and then he decided to move out and suggested I could just take his place,” Midoriya tells him, a sheepish smile playing on his face. 

Katsuki makes an annoyed face at the man, pushing his hands away when he tries to reach out and dry the plates. “This is my fucking kitchen.”

“I’m trying to help.”

“Did I ask?”

“You’re being really difficult.”

“‘S why you shouldn’t move in with me.” Katsuki grins at the glare that gets. Midoriya has stepped out of his way, obviously realizing that he won’t let the man help. He’s standing behind Katsuki, arms crossed and mouth pursed. “What? Got something to say?”

“Aren’t you cute.”

That catches Katsuki completely off guard. He turns, angry frown on his face. “Fuck you!”

“Behaving like a petulant little child just because you found out the cat is mine and then screaming all on your own every time you see me because I stepped on your imaginary tail. What? Are you going to hiss at me next?”

“You fucking asshole.” Katsuki stalks towards him, one fist in his shirt as he drags the damn parasite closer by the collar and shows his teeth. “I’ll kill you right here.”

The smile Midoriya gives him doesn’t reach his eyes at all. Instead he reaches for Katsuki’s hands and holds them down with his own. The fuckface is stronger than Katsuki expected and even though Katsuki’s fighting it with all his might, Midoriya manages to easily loosen his hands around his shirt and step back from Katsuki, both his arms in Midoriya’s hands. 

“See, I’m only trying to talk but you keep on throwing insults around and picking fights all on your own.”

“I told you to leave me the fuck alone,” Katsuki shouts, pulling his arms back, his anger boiling so hot, his vision burns red for a second. There is tension in his shoulders, a pull at his neck that speaks of a brewing fight he’s not eager to take. “You keep bothering me like a fucking stalker and what? Expect me to play house with you? Get the fuck out of my apartment, you damn shit stain.”

“Right, my bad.” He says, pulling on his collar, eyes not straying from Katsuki’s own. “I won’t bother you anymore. I will pick Kuri up next week. If that’s not okay with you, I will have Shouto bring her to me instead.” Then he finally turns around and stalks out of Katsuki’s kitchen, his hallway, his apartment and hopefully his life. 

As soon as the door slams shut behind Midoriya, Katsuki leans back against the kitchen counter, a headache already making itself at home instead of the tension that had made him struggle to breath just seconds ago. 

Katsuki doesn’t actually mind fighting. It’s the damn knowledge that he pushed too much and too far that kept him from punching Midoriya in the face the moment that asshole had spouted all that nonsense. He rubs at his forehead, painfully aware that he might have provoked that little standoff. 

Then he stares down at his feline little roommate, as she carefully approaches him and gives a questioning little mewl. 

“Sorry, Kuri,” he tells her, sitting down on the ground and gathering her in his lap. “I fucked that one up royally.” When she mews, he gives a tight little laugh, thumbing his head back against the counter. “Don’t worry, I’ll pack all your toys for you.” And the food, the litter box, the little bowls he bought her. Hell, even the damn cat tree and his old shoe box. He will make Todoroki carry it all. 

Fuck it, Katsuki thinks as he gets up and carries Kuri to bed with him. “I’ll figure something out.” And then he doesn’t cuddle Kuri. She just lies next to him as Katsuki replays the earlier confrontation over and over again in his head. 

“Magic thing my ass,” Katsuki grumbles. Kaminari is a fucking liar. The only magic Midoriya possesses is the magic to ruffle all of Katsuki’s feathers.

Damn it.

[weaverlings]

more than the dust that we can return

listen...... siblings. i have strong emotions about them all.

*

Summary: The kingdom, free of infection, is open to the knights and their sister in all its ill-fated vastness. That leaves them with a difficult choice: where to make their home?

The little Ghost has an idea.

Content warning for death/corpses and description of THK's injuries

AO3

*

When the Hollow Knight was well enough to travel a little ways, Hornet led her siblings out of the Mantis Village at last. They only went as far as the hot spring in the crossroads. From there, the rest of Hallownest would be open to them.    

Hornet sat on the side, dipping her legs in while the little Ghost and the Hollow Knight soaked. The little Ghost splashed at her, but she drew away. She was in no mood for playing, and was grateful that they seemed to catch onto this. She needed to think. She kicked in the spring absently, and then caught herself with a hand on her knee.

Their hosts had been gracious, allowing them to stay so long. Perhaps they could return, and stay a little longer. Perhaps she could find some way to contribute, to earn their keep. But no. Better not to impose further.

She pushed herself out of the water, and walked to the edge of the cliff. From this vantage, she looked down into the crossroads.

The rest of Hallownest was open to them, in all its ill-fated vastness.  

But where would be safe? What did safety look like for the knights? Most threats they could handle, but she knew nothing about what they required for food, if anything, and Hallownest could hardly meet the needs of ordinary bugs as it was.

The kingdom was also less dangerous now, and that presented its own concerns. Not even the infection had kept scavengers away. These sorts would think nothing of the wild creatures and crumbling structures that remained to challenge them. Someone would find them soon enough, and the Hollow Knight had caused a stir even among the proud mantises. The knights needed safety, and she suspected that would mean privacy.

She turned at the sound of sloshing, and then footsteps behind her. The little Ghost stopped when she faced them, and tilted their head to one side. They were still dripping, but evidently didn't mind. The Hollow Knight waited at their back.

Hornet asked them, "You are well enough to travel?"

The little Ghost nodded.

Hornet said, at last, what had so absorbed her attention. "You will need a place to stay."

The Ghost joined her at the edge of the cliff. They stared down, too, their gaze seeming vacant. They must have drawn some conclusion, however, because they soon spun around, their little cloak flaring. They beckoned both of their siblings close, and pulled out a map.

The Hollow Knight crouched down on one side of the Ghost, and Hornet leaned over their other shoulder. The Ghost pointed to a spot high in the cliffs above Dirtmouth. They had marked a stagway station there.

Hornet frowned at the map. She had little experience with the stagways. They had not lasted long after her childhood, and she preferred other means of transport. She'd only realized a stag remained recently, after she'd observed the little Ghost with him. It wasn't any surprise that there was a faraway station she didn't know, but she couldn't imagine how this would solve their problem.

Better to ask. "You wish to go there? To stay there?"

They nodded.

She had no better ideas. There were plenty of nooks and crannies where the knights could settle in the short term, and they could always move again, if all else failed.

"To the stagway, then." She looked to the Hollow Knight. "If that is agreeable to you, as well?"

The Hollow Knight did respond, in a sense. They had been still before, but now they seemed to stifle the air around them, as if they could bid it to mask their own awareness.

She pressed gently, "If we are to travel together, I'd rather we are in agreement."

The Ghost reached up and patted the Hollow Knight's arm. They finally nodded, once and slightly.

Hornet accepted this. "Then come. We will find out together what the little Ghost wants to show us."

The trip to the station was easy enough. The Ghost rang the bell with their nail, and the sound echoed down the tunnel until it was lost under the pounding of the stag's approach. He stopped before the platform with only a grunted greeting for his favorite, only traveler.

Then he saw Hornet.

"And who have you brought, little one? Oh, it will be good to-"

And then his gaze slid up and up and up, sometimes startling when he still did not see a face where he expected one. He found the Hollow Knight's serrated mask, and spent the rest of his breath in one rush.

He said finally, "Who have you brought?"

Hornet folded her arms under her cloak. Her fingers tapped her upper arm pensively, hidden there. Safety, which means privacy.            

The Ghost simply pointed first at themself, then at the Hollow Knight, and last at Hornet. Three to travel.

Hornet stepped up to their side, and said, "We are their siblings. We wish to travel with you - the little one knows where."

The stag huffed again, and inclined their head. "I'm sorry. I had no idea the little one had family. A remarkable lot, you must be. I've never met their like in all my days."

Hornet laughed. It was not precisely happy. It existed a step to the left from real mirth.

The stag eyed her, but must not have judged her too harshly, because he said, "The stagways are open to all. Come aboard."

So maybe he did judge her, and the Hollow Knight, too. But not in defiance of duty. That was enough for her.

The Hollow Knight climbed carefully into the back seat, tucking their sharp limbs close to their body. Hornet settled in the front.

The stag asked, "Where to, then, little one?"

The Ghost pointed out the station they had shown their siblings.

Another grunt. "You trust your family, don't you?"

They nodded. That was all it took. He said, "Hop on, now. It's not a long journey from here - even on these old legs."

The Ghost climbed on. Hornet shifted so that they could share the seat, and turned back to the Hollow Knight. Before she could ask them if they were ready, the stag was galloping into the tunnels.

*

Hornet and the Hollow Knight followed the Ghost deeper into the stag nest. They picked their way over the corpses of ancient stags, empty shells that had once thundered all throughout Hallownest.

As it stood, it was a grim place. Dark. Their footsteps echoed. Seeing it, however, Hornet understood. There was plenty of space. The central platform, leading into the tunnels, could be adapted to suit a variety of purposes. The abandoned freight elevator was a room in and of itself, even for a being of the Hollow Knight's stature. There was even a second story, if they needed it. Perhaps the Ghost could claim it for their own. Her room in the Beast's den had been close to that size.  

As they returned to the platform, Ghost waited so that they could fall in step with their sister. She observed, "A wise choice, perhaps. However, it is not ours, is it?"

Ghost shook their head.

"I will speak to the stag, if that suits you."

They nodded.

Hornet darted ahead, and rejoined their host. "Stag?"

"Yes, young one?"

Hornet allowed this comment to pass. His assessment of her age hardly mattered, and she was still less inclined to offer her name.

"My siblings and I, with your permission, will tend to this place. We will see that your kin receive a proper burial. We will do this no matter what," she promised. "However, we have a boon to ask. And it is no small thing, I think."

"For the little one? Go ahead and ask."

"My siblings need a place to stay. Somewhere which will be safe for them. You have observed that our… elder sibling…" Once again, age meant little here. Though she couldn't help but wonder if the little Ghost had been older, once, denied maturation for impurity. "...Our elder sibling has a presence most striking."            

"Yes," the Stag said immediately. "Yes, that would be fine. I think… I would like that."

"You would?"

Now, he considered, only to reaffirm his choice. "I don't want this place to be a grave forever. It's meant to be a home. If it can be that for the little one and their kin, then I'm happy to allow it."

"Then you have our gratitude. Thank you." Hornet bowed, neat and low.

He didn't quite know how to handle that show of chivalry. "Well, thank you. It's been some time since… Thank you. I can see why they brought you."

She, in turn, didn't know how to respond to the compliment. She offered, "We will begin at once. You need not stay. I cannot say how long it will take."

"It's no trouble for me to stay. It's not as if I've got anywhere else to be."

"If you wish…" That wasn't what she had hoped to hear. She didn't want to be rude, not after what he had just granted them, but she warned, "While I cannot say how long it will take, I doubt it is a single day's work."

The stag chuckled, a sound like falling rocks. "I see, I see. Alright, then. If that's your druther, I'll leave you and your kin to it."

"We will call for you when it's done."

The stag agreed, "You'd better, young one! You fix up that bell there, and ring it when you're ready. And give the little one my regards." He stopped, but then added, "The big one, too."

He inclined his head once more, and sped back into the tunnels, leaving behind only a cloud of dust.

Hornet found the Ghost and the Hollow Knight staring up into the abandoned elevator shaft. She joined them, peering up in case they'd found anything amiss. But there was only the same stone as before.

"Knights," Hornet said softly, but the word echoed up the stone.  

Ghost jolted, and turned their gaze on her. So did the Hollow Knight, but with one smooth turn of their head. Hornet looked up and down between them for a moment, and then came to her senses, although she couldn't have said where she'd left them.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to alarm you." She moved on, breaking whatever had gripped them. "I spoke to the Stag, and you will be allowed to stay here. It will be safe. But first, we must prepare graves for the stags who remain."

The little Ghost nodded.  

The work was tiring and monotonous. They settled into a rhythm together, and pushed on in focused silence. The Hollow Knight dug graves in the cliffside, clawing out huge chunks of earth with their hand. Hornet and the Ghost carried the stags down one by one. Then, on one trip, the little Ghost stopped abruptly.

"What's the matter?" Hornet asked, adjusting the corpse in her grip as it bumped up against her. She peered around the side, just in time to see the Hollow Knight straighten. They held their arm close to their chest, which heaved with exertion.

The hot spring was, literally, magical. That did not make its power infinite. A wrathful god had eaten into the Hollow Knight's flesh for years. They were probably fortunate that the spring had worked deep enough for them to make the journey in the first place. They certainly shouldn't have been laboring. Shame flashed like a knife's edge inside Hornet's shell.

Of course they were skilled at disguising their pain. She should have known better.

"Little Ghost," Hornet said. "Let us put this one to rest. We should not let them touch the ground before they're buried."

The Ghost started walking again, and she followed. Once the corpse was in its grave, the Hollow Knight stepped forward to fill it.

Hornet held up a hand, and said, "Wait."

She hated the stillness that settled over the Hollow Knight, but they certainly were waiting. The little Ghost stepped in front of them. They beckoned to their sibling, and the Hollow Knight settled onto one knee. The Ghost reached up, and touched the Hollow Knight's stomach. Lightly. Barely at all, it seemed. The Hollow Knight flinched, and then drew stillness in around themself again.

"You are not well," Hornet said to them.

Once again, the little Ghost looked at her. They shook their head. For a vessel to have their flaws assessed never boded well.

She added quickly, "You must rest. The little Ghost and I will finish, yes?"

And now the small vessel nodded, quite vigorously this time. The Hollow Knight knelt, unmoving. At least they did not try to resume their task.

Hornet was reluctant to command them further, but she did. Her mercy would have been misguided. "If you wish to remain here, then sit."

They obeyed, and she couldn't shake the feeling that was all it was. But she had no idea what comfort she could offer them, and she did have work to do.

It took her and the little Ghost more time to finish this way, but neither of them had any objections. When they finished, the Ghost carried up some smaller stones which had been discarded, and embedded them in a circle on the cliffside. They then enlisted Hornet's help in placing a large rock in the center.

They drew their nail, and scratched into the rock, "Here lie the stags. Strong and unbroken. Faithful companions. Remember them."                    

"Well said." Hornet inclined her head. "They were great creatures…"

They were. Although she only distantly remembered their prime, without them, Hallownest never could have achieved the sparse good it did.

She turned to the Hollow Knight. "Now, we should all go inside. Do you need help walking?"

It was as if they didn't hear her, until they suddenly shook their head. They unsheathed their nail from their back, and swung it forward into the ground. They leaned on it, more hauling themself on the cliff than walking. She and the Ghost stayed on either side of them, minding their pace.

Now, the nest was truly empty. It needed some cleaning, some dusting and polish. The air was still thick with grime. It was still unsettling. If anything, the place now felt like a tomb waiting to be filled. Hornet was almost hesitant to leave them here, but it truly seemed like the best option. Safe and private.

She led the knights into the large elevator shaft. The Ghost hovered around the Hollow Knight, hopping up and down around them.

"Sit and rest, both of you," she told them. The Hollow Knight did as they were told. As always. She found herself glad for the Ghost's defiance; they nudged aside the Hollow Knight's tattered cloak, instead.

"Move aside, then," she said. "Do you think I'm asking for my health, little Ghost? I will examine their wounds."

Now, they complied. They watched her briefly as she examined the Hollow Knight's shell, before darting back off toward the cliffside entrance. So it would seem she was trusted with their more fragile sibling. At least there was that.

The Hollow Knight hardly reacted to her prodding. If she touched somewhere especially tender, they would hold their breath for the meanest instant. Or she could only suppose that's what was happening. Most of their body had to be tender. Perhaps they held their breath when they finally crossed whatever their threshold was for pain, before they could gather themself.

There was little she could do for the warped shell itself. Stiff and scarred though it was, it was whole. Bandages or bindings would be meaningless. It seemed as healed as it could be, as well, so even soul wasn't likely to improve anything.

"I have something that may help the pain. An ointment." She glanced up at them, too quick for them to avoid her. She held their gaze. "May I use it?"

There was something flat about the look they gave her. Not empty, flat. They nodded, as short as always. But no one coaxed them into it, and the little Ghost was still elsewhere. Did they trust her, too? Or was the pain just worse than she'd already thought? It didn't change what she had to do.

"Thank you," she said, sincerely. The bottle in her cloak was small, and she poured all the ointment out onto their shell. As potent as it was, spread thin over their side, it was barely enough. She stepped back when she was done.

"There. Does that help?"

She waited for their response. She had to trust that it would come, and yet they surprised her even so. They couldn't bow sitting down, but they inclined their head steeply.

"There's no need for that," she said. "I'm glad to do it."

They looked up at her, just long enough to meet her gaze, and then resumed their deferential posture.

Perhaps they'll find some stubbornness yet. She said only, "Very well, then. You are welcome."

The Hollow Knight straightened at last. Satisfied, she turned away and left to find the little Ghost.

They were just coming back down the smaller, operational elevator. They hopped the rest of the way onto the stone, and she told them, "I think the Knight is resting now, truly. Perhaps that can be their room?"

They peered past her. They pressed one hand thoughtfully to their chin.

She added, "It will need…quite a lot of work. But so does the rest of this place. You should have a room for yourself, too. There's enough space here. You chose well."

They nodded. She laughed softly.

"Is there anything else you need?"

The Ghost shook their head.

"Then I will be off." She bowed to them. "I will return when I have the chance. Be well."

She spun, and bent her knees. She was an instant away from dashing away and vaulting back down the cliffs. Something caught in her cloak, and pulled. Her heart thrummed in her shell. Her hand found her needle.            

Again, she turned. The Ghost's hand remained clenched in her cloak. They stared up at her. She let her hand fall.            

"Yes?"            

They tugged again.

"You may tell me if you need something," she said. "I will do my best to provide it. Then I must go."

They pointed back inside.

"Alright. Show me."

They led her onto the small elevator, and hopped to the platform on the other side - a complicated maneuver, as bright wings unfurled from their body, and then they seemed to dissolve into shadow to carry themself the rest of the way. Hornet threw her needle, and followed on a strand of silk.

They had buried the eggs, of course. What life they might have held was also long dead, devoid of even soul. Now, there was only the empty alcove, and the room to squeeze into beyond it. The little Ghost stopped by the hole. Hornet looked around.

"What is it?"

They pointed at her. Then they waved down the hole.

"I do not-"

They repeated the gesture. Hornet. The hole. No. The room.

This time, she stared at them. Of course, they were still staring at her. Their eyes met. She shook her head quickly. "I cannot stay, little Ghost. Much has changed in the kingdom already. I must observe, and I must prepare."

She didn't know what for, but that was exactly the point. Whatever was to come, there was no one else who could stand sentinel. She would not ask it of her siblings. Even if they had the strength, and as it was, they needed so badly to rest. They deserved that much, at least. This was her duty, and hers alone.

They didn't answer her. Instead, they beckoned over her shoulder. There was a massive thud as the Hollow Knight landed behind her, and settled hunched on their knees. They watched her, leaning in, tense. Unmistakably expectant.

"What about you?" She asked. "Do you wish for me to stay, also?"

They nodded. She looked back to the Ghost. They were nodding, too. Vigorously, again.

She sighed, and sat down against the wall, crossing her legs. "Very well. I did say I would provide, if you asked. I will stay, for now."

They walked up to her. They sat down next to her. Their head settled against her shoulder. She stiffened at the sudden contact, unaccustomed to such familiarity. But it was a soft touch, benign. She ordered herself to relax. Still, their head jerked up, even as the rest of them seemed to sink into themself.

They are a child, really, she remembered. They had fought untold enemies, bested her and foes that would have destroyed her utterly. They had brought an end to the infection. They had spent all day digging graves, just for a place to rest. She thought again: they deserve that rest.

"I am sorry," she said quietly. "You may stay there, if you wish."

They settled down again, but she could feel a difference in the pressure - she bore less of their weight, this time. She exhaled, and reached up with her free hand, undoing her cloak. She shrugged it off of one shoulder, and tugged it down to wrap it around their body.

They looked up at her.

"Yes. It is alright."

Then she patted the ground on her other side. "I know you are still hurt. Come and rest."

She certainly wasn't going to make them jump down. As it was, she'd rather not think about how crossing the shaft might have hurt them.

They slunk forward on their knees. They didn't seem to know exactly what to do with their body, how to arrange it for this. In the end, however, they had half-curled in on themself, with their knees by their stomach and their arm cushioning their mask. She reached out, as they watched. When they did not move away, she gently rested a hand on one horn. She kept her hand their, unmoving.

It was not long before both of them were not only still, but limp.

She could have left then, but she waited. She would wait, and watch over. This was her duty, and she had promised to give them what they needed. She hadn't thought this would be herself. But that it defied her expectations was no reason to renege on her word, and she had no wish to disturb the little Ghost. They had slumped against her and slid almost into her lap, still wrapped in her cloak.

They looked so delicate that way. The Hollow Knight on her other side looked as close to peaceful as she had ever seen.

She wouldn't leave them, not like this. She could decide on her next move when they awoke.

[silkandsnowendydouglas-blog]

Mattress  shopping don'ts – a far-reaching list

click here to view full postDon't simply pursue companions and family advice.

"Everyone has their conclusions on the best or most noticeably awful beddings," says Caitlin Hoff, wellbeing and security examiner, ConsumerSafety.org, "yet not every person is assembled a similar way or even rests similarly situated." Consider all the counsel yet give more consideration to your body type and dozing propensities.

Try not to give value a chance to be your lone guide.

Steady, agreeable beddings produced using high-caliber, strong materials aren't modest. "With a staggering number of alternatives available, it very well may be anything but difficult to pick a modest sleeping pad and simply proceed onward," says Hoff. "Yet, recall that you'll spend approximately 33% of your time resting on your bedding. An interest in a steady sleeping cushion that addresses your issues is an interest in a time of serene evenings." That's something that truly will be really precious.

Try not to go sleeping cushion shopping without anyone else.

"An enormous error that individuals make when sleeping cushion shoppingis leaving their accomplice at home," clarifies Hoff. "Because a sleeping pad is beneficial for one individual doesn't mean it will be useful for both." Go shopping together so you can check each other's responses to everyone you test.

Try not to avoid the sleeping cushion testing.

Your new bedding will be a piece of your life for 8-10 years so set aside some effort to rests on it in various dozing positions. While it might feel unbalanced to spread out on the presentation beds with different purchasers processing around, a great night's rest is certainly justified regardless of any apparent shame. To support your trust in your decision of bedding, get some information about a potential time for testing to try out the sleeping cushion. Putting in a couple of evenings thinking about it is the best indicator of its appropriateness for you.

Try not to skirt the essential subtleties.

"A sleeping pad is a significant life buy," Hoff brings up. "It influences your psychological and physical wellbeing so in the event that you bring home a sleeping cushion and find that it doesn't address your issues, you should return it." Most bedding organizations will have a time for testing when a sleeping cushion can be returned, yet numerous additionally have an "arrival expense." Know the arrival arrangement before you purchase.

Try not to hold back on getting your work done.

Ensure you comprehend the parts that make up your picked bedding, including thickness, sort of froth and curl tally. What's inside your sleeping cushion will the solace life of your new bedding. Focus on what matters and overlook the advertising language to help direct you to the ideal sleeping cushion for you.

Try not to belittle the significance of your own solace inclination.

Some place in the middle of firm and delicate is your optimal sleeping pad, however the vast majority will in general incline toward one finish of the range or other. There's a conviction that a firmer sleeping cushion is better for your back however that is not really evident. Some sleeping pad with milder pad tops can ease torment by lessening the measure of weight of risky territories.

Try not to surge.

You wouldn't purchase the primary vehicle you test drive, isn't that so? Invest energy inquiring about bedding fundamentals and visit a sleeping pad showroom to commence your journey for the best sleeping cushion. You'll get an opportunity to perceive what your alternatives are and converse with salesmen, who can be an abundance of data. A decent sales rep will get some information about how your rest propensities, your inclinations and the spending you have at the top of the priority list. Pose a lot of inquiries and accept their recommendation into thought.

Prepared to locate the best sleeping cushion for you? These assets will help you on your journey! click here to view full post.

[numberonetaliafan]

For the Talia fans

Blame @fyeah-taliaalghul for this one, and the rest who encouraged it.

The sunset was almost vulgar in its extravagance, lurid reds and purples streaking the sky over the Gulf, while the sun itself burned like molten gold as it disappeared behind the water. Waves lapped softly beneath the dock, an almost musical undertone to the conversation between the couple sitting in deck chairs and watching the sun's descent.

The Waynes might superficially fit the description of an old married couple. But no one would call them ‘elderly’, though they had both left middle age behind years ago. Bruce's black hair had gone white at the temples, his face was graven with stern lines, and the cane at his side was a necessity rather than an affectation. Talia wore her years a little more lightly, but had allowed her hair to go iron-gray, and declined the vanity that some women her age indulged in to smooth their faces to a facsimile of youth. The lines at the corners of her eyes were from smiling, and she cherished them as only one who had not had enough occasions to smile could.

Still, his shoulders were broad and his back straight, and her morning tai chi routine was as graceful as it had ever been. Neither of them had escaped time - she in particular yielded to it with glad relief - but they had not been destroyed by it, either.

On the small table between their chairs stood a bottle of red wine, and a plate which had recently borne a lovely selection of chocolate truffles. At the moment the couple's fingers were entwined, their hands resting lightly on the table beside his half-full glass. Talia held her glass in her other hand, swirling it slightly to admire the vintage, a 1953 Cote des Nuits.

Bruce narrowed his eyes in the slanting sunlight, tensing slightly, and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. Nightfall still brought on his protective impulses, even a thousand miles from his city.

“The children are managing perfectly well without us, Beloved,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he replied, his voice gravely as ever. “Terry might not tell me if there were any problems, but Damian would.”

Her son would always report dutifully to his father; there was no need to point that out. “Do we not deserve a vacation, just the two of us?” she asked.

“After playing host to everyone over the holidays? Yes, we certainly do,” he answered, settling again. It had been her delight, truly, to see all the old familiar faces again, happy with the directions their own lives had taken them. All of them had blossomed, wherever they took root, and Christmas at Wayne Manor had been full of life and joy.

Also full of noise, and a certain degree of inconvenience, hence this getaway to the Gulf Coast.

“I don't like being so far from my city,” Bruce admitted at last.

Talia squeezed his fingers again. “It is not solely your city, Beloved. You taught them all well. Be at peace. You have done enough.”

He sighed. “The weather here is certainly kinder.” January was gray and frozen in Gotham, but here even the nights rarely dipped below a springlike cool.

And then, turning toward her with a smile, he added, “The company is much more agreeable, too.”

Talia laughed, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles. “Oh, if you find me agreeable, I am surely losing my edge.”

“Never happen, not to you,” Bruce said, giving her hand a gentle tug to bring her closer. They both had to lean to kiss over the low table, the press of lips full of contented satisfaction, where once every kiss sparked a blaze of passion.

They had passion, too, and the lavish home behind them had been witness to much delight. It was simply that, among its many gifts, time had given them the ability to enjoy one another in more leisurely fashion, when they chose.

Talia was about to make a playful remark about swords kept for purely decorative purposes inevitably growing dull, one he would feel compelled to refute at length, when they both heard a new sound among the splashing waves and creaking wood of the dock.

An outboard motor was not that unusual on the Gulf, but one nosing into their personal cove very much was. No traffic should have come this way, their privacy much cherished. It was a small craft, designed for speed, three men aboard.

Talia did not suggest that the men might merely be lost; the boat was piloted with purpose, coming directly toward them. Bruce pressed a small button recessed into the arm of his chair, activating surveillance devices and priming defenses. One more press would upload the camera feeds to Oracle and alert the children, but that was not yet necessary.

She drank off the last of her wine, watching intently, even as Bruce sat forward and planted his cane between his feet. The boat puttered in the last few feet, two men hopping out onto the dock, hands in their pockets. Bruce adjusted the cushion at the small of his back, setting it beside him for the moment. Talia let her wineglass hang from her fingers negligently, her other hand curled around the armrest of her chair. These men moved like thugs, all arrogant swagger; they would not see the throwing knives attached to magnets there.

“Can we help you?” Bruce said coldly, having seen the same cocky demeanor and drawing the same conclusions about who these men were and what their objective might be.

“Sure, Pops, just sit there for a second,” the first man said, coming out with a gun. Small caliber, short-barreled, and he held it at hip height. Talia sneered at the disregard for anything resembling accuracy. Meanwhile the second man tied up the boat, and the third climbed up to join his fellows.

All three were obnoxiously young, not more than twenty-five, and steeped in youth's braggart confidence. Talia looked past them at the wrapped and taped bags in the stern of their boat, and rolled her eyes. Drug runners. Not even a class of criminal worthy of any respect.

“You are ruining what promised to be a delightful evening,” she informed them, arching a brow in annoyance. “Go now, and we may even give a head start before calling the authorities.”

“Shut up, lady,” the second man said, pointing a similar gun in her general direction.

“Do you know whose house this is?” Bruce asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Doesn't matter. We need a place to lay low for a day, and it's nice and secluded,” the first man said.

The second closed the distance, almost within Talia's reach, and added, “Play it cool, you'll still be alive when we leave.”

Talia and Bruce looked at each other. He shrugged with a small smile. “I suppose it was too much to hope that trouble wouldn't follow us here.”

She answered with a shrug of her own. “Quite frankly, Beloved, I am offended that we could not attract a more interesting manner of trouble.”

The thugs had not expected to be so summarily dismissed, and the first two men both stepped closer, raising their weapons.  Bruce and Talia, who had been waiting for just that move, responded immediately. They no longer had the speed they’d had in their twenties, but neither were they as slow as the retirees these young fools thought them to be. Initiative counted for much, in encounters like these.

Bruce threw the cushion into the first man's face while Talia pitched her wineglass at the second. That distracted them just long enough for Bruce's cane to sweep through the air, knocking the first man's gun out of his hand. The second had come close enough for Talia to accomplish the same with a kick. Both weapons skittered across the dock and into the gulf's roiling waters.

The third man still had not drawn a weapon, but he was reaching into his pocket. Talia came to her feet with the dessert plate in her hand. Drawing it back, she flung it spinning across the little distance between them, its edge striking the third man just above the browbone. The good china shattered, regrettably, but its impact dropped the man to his knees.

Bruce had swept the first thug's legs out from under him with the cane, using the momentum to get himself out of his chair. A well-placed kick in the chin from a heavy-soled shoe knocked that one out as well, leaving only Talia's opponent. He seemed shocked that two people their age could put up a fight, and that made it easy to sidestep both his ineffective punch and his attempt to grapple her.  Bruce had turned toward her, lifting the wine bottle as if to bludgeon him, and Talia said sharply, “I have him,” before stepping in and dropping him with a fist to the solar plexus and a knee to the chin as he doubled over.

Three men downed in fewer minutes by a pair of old warriors wintering on the Florida coast.  She couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement at the scene.

“Thank you for not using the knives,” Bruce said gruffly, putting both hands to the small of his back with a grimace.  

“Thank you for not wasting good wine on these idiots,” Talia replied.  She rolled her shoulder experimentally, and yes, it twinged as expected.  Adrenaline and determination gave them both the ability to finish this fight, but nothing could change the fact that they’d both done themselves too much harm in earlier years.  

“Are you all right?” he asked her, seeing her wince.

“I’ll make an appointment with the acupuncturist tomorrow,” she replied.  “And send them the bill.  For now, I’ll restrain them, if you call the police.”

His cell phone was in his pocket, and he dialed while she removed the men’s belts and cuffed their wrists and ankles together.  Two of the three were already stirring, but Talia knew she could keep them down for the brief time the authorities would take to respond in such a wealthy locale.  The third was the one she’d brained with the plate, and she checked his pupils to make sure she hadn’t done too much damage.  Luckily the swelling bump on his forehead seemed to be the worst of his injuries.

“Who are you people?” the first man said muzzily, peering up at them.

Bruce’s only answer was a harsh laugh.  Talia strolled past him, picking up Bruce’s abandoned glass and taking a sip of rich, well-aged wine.  She caught her husband’s eye and smiled warmly. “Child, you would never believe us if we told you.”

[innosquarecreation-blog]

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In addition to numerous mathematical lab equipment, there is, of course, other ways to learn and keep your interest piqued in the subject. A good example of this is through speed math classes. Speed math classes encourage the quick and critical use of formulae and concepts that you already know. It encourages mental math in a swift and methodical way to deliver the correct answer immediately. The competing nature of quick mental math acts as an important tool for achieving unexpected proficiency, for learners who cleverly apply it.

Conclusion: Innosquare Creations propose a unique atmosphere to engage you as well as children in math-related, practically engaging activities in order to learn, recapitulate and sharpen theories/concepts of Mathematics. Added to this, speed math also encourages the quick use of your mathematical skills. Innosquare offers a wide range of materials appealing to people of all ages and reaches more than satisfactory scores with regard to the benefits mentioned above.

[iluvsexyvoltageguys]

I Want to Have Your Baby

Requested by @rougepetale Shun is her bae!

Fandom: Irresistible Mistakes (Love 365)

Pairing: Shunichiro x Reader

Shunichiro pieces it together. He picks up on seemingly insignificant details – you smiling whenever you spot a toddler in the supermarket, the fact that the occasional laughing baby video can be found in your internet history, the way your face lights up when you see all of the cute baby clothes when you’re out shopping – and then adds all the details together, forming a logical conclusion: you want a baby.

You are no longer on birth control, you have been in a steady, mutually agreeable relationship and you’re both financially stable. No time like the present, he reasons, and while he can tell that you still have your doubts as to whether he wants to start a family as much as you do, you readily agree. So, you start trying.

You fall into bed with each other in much the same way as you do every other night. Shunichiro quickly strips down to his pants but he takes his time in undressing you. It’s no different than the countless other times he’s done it and yet, in a way, it is. He maps out your body as he removes each article of clothing, running his hands over your curves and crevices with which he’s grown accustomed, thinking of how your body will change in the upcoming months. How your soft, flat belly will grow. How big your breasts will become. It’s strangely erotic, this act of envisioning what you’ll look like when pregnant with his child, to the point where he can’t help but share these exciting thoughts with you.

“Your breasts are already so tender to the touch. God, ______, imagine…” He bends down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking until it’s taut. Then he lets go and runs his lips along the underside of your breast. “Imagine how sensitive they’ll be when you’re pregnant. They’ll ache a bit towards the end, I’m afraid, but you need only ask and I’ll try to make it better. You know that, don’t you?” He asked. “Shun…” You breathe. You tangle your hands in his hair, keeping him firmly pressed against your chest. “Yes, I know. Keep going.”

Encouraged, he lavishes your other breast with the same treatment as before. Taking the soft flesh into his hand and kneading it until you moan; kisses to the underside, circling around your nipple with the tip of his tongue until the skin puckers and then finally, finally trapping the small bud of your nipple between his lips. It’s a ritual of sorts, one that he’s revised and experimented with over the course of your relationship, and he finds he can’t wait to keep doing it as your breasts change their shape and size. He imagines it’ll feel exactly as it did when he touched your breasts for the first time – that thrilling, intoxicating pleasure rising up inside him – except with the added benefit of his knowing exactly how to please you. No guesswork, no doubts as to whether you are enjoying yourself. In a word, perfect.

He continues to tease your breasts with his mouth until he’s satisfied he’s worked you into a state in which you are incredibly aroused, very wet and just a bit desperate.

“Spread your legs,” he urges, backing away from you to the edge of the bed. He can tell that you know what’s coming. With a trembling sigh, you place a hand on your belly and ease your thighs apart. Shunichiro sits back on his ankles and takes in the sight of you for a moment. Your natural scent is there, of course, along with your intermingled sweat and the light perfume you always wear. And then there’s the view. Your pussy lips are tinged pink, the inner pair glistening with arousal. It’s enough to make him fall forward once more and bury his face in your sex, which is exactly what he does.

“Oh, fuck,” You bite out. Your legs widen even more and you tilt your hips up, offering him a better range of motion. He laps at your entrance, reveling in the taste of you on his tongue. Once again, images flood his mind as to how this specific act will differ when you’re far into your pregnancy. He’ll have to help you get into position and he can’t expect you to be as flexible as you are now – throwing your legs over his shoulders in abandon and digging your heels into his back with a lusty moan – but he’s confident you’ll be able to make it work.

“More?” He asks when he pauses for breath. You give a shaky sort of laugh before answering him. “God yes, Shun, of course, it’s just…what’s gotten into you?” His eyes meet yours and he softly smiles. “You have,” he answers truthfully, “I’m just sorry it’s taken me this long.” You look at him confused, “For what?” You ask. “To catch up.” He presses wet, unhurried kisses to your inner thighs. “To realize this is what I want for us, too.” Your heart races at his words but you’re still feeling doubt. “Are you sure? Because we could always wait-”

“Sweetheart..” Shunichiro glances up from his view of your spread legs. Your head is tossed back and you’re staring up at the ceiling, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll shush now. You can get back to…whatever it is you were doing just now with your tongue. The thing that made my hips buck.” You say. “I have a better idea.” He smirks. Shunichiro moves up your body until you are chest to chest then, quite suddenly, he grabs hold of your hips, rolling with you until you’re on top of him.

“Oh,” you smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his nose. “I like this idea. Very much.” He just grinned at you, “I thought you would.” You nodded your head, “We might as well get our fill of this now.” You slide a hand between your bodies and rub at his erection through the thin fabric of his pants. “Probably won’t be a comfortable position for you when I’m as round as a beach ball.” You try to picture yourself in that situation. “I w-won’t care about that,” he insists, finding it harder to concentrate now that your hand is inside his underwear, palming the head of his cock and spreading beady moisture from the slit. “No?” You kiss him again, this time on the mouth, all the while stroking the length of him. He shakes his head. “You will be even more beautiful.”

You twist your wrist in such a way that Shun sees stars and forgets how to speak for a moment. When his sight returns to normal and he can manage more than a few grunts, he pulls the waistband of his pants down with one hand and grabs you with the other, frantically thrusting against your wet heat. “Fuck me,” he pleads, his words raspy and utterly desperate on his tongue. “Use me so I can give you what you want.”

Without a word, you take his cock and align your bodies together; sinking down inch by agonizing inch until you’re fully seated. You lock eyes, both of you voiceless as you adjust to the exquisite feeling, until you start to rock against him. “What do you want, ______?” he urges, reaching up to tweak one of your nipples. You quickly snap your hips against his and you both moan from the sensation. “I-I want you to come inside me.” You moan softly. “And?” He pistons his hips upward and you gasp, losing your rhythm for a moment. “I want you to give me a baby.” You continue to grind against him, leaning forward so that your clit is stimulated by your bodies touching. “Please. I want a baby. I want your baby.

It’s the ‘please’ that does it for him. With a curse, Shunichiro flips you back over so that he’s on top, his weight supported by his forearms. You wrap your legs around his waist without being told to and meet him thrust for thrust. He takes you roughly, just the way you like it, filling you up again and again until you’re a shaky mess, mumbling incoherent things and clenching around his cock as you come undone.

Shunichiro follows shortly after. He’s never been able to last long after you finish. It’s something in your face, in your expression, that makes his hips stutter to a halt and his entire body seizes up as his orgasm hits. He empties himself inside you, shuddering each time a tremor jolts his system, and then gently rolls off of you and onto his back, completely spent.

You are the first to speak, your breaths still labored. “God. That was…” But he cuts you off, “A pillow. Give me a pillow. Make it two.” With a huff, you reach over the side of the bed and pick up two discarded pillows off the floor. You throw them at him with more force than strictly necessary and then slump back down on the bed, crossing your arms below your chest. “Now lift your hips.” He orders. “Oh. Right.” Now that you have caught on that the pillows are for your use and not his, you give him a sheepish grin and plant your feet on the mattress, lifting your ass so he can wedge both of them under your lower back.

“A bit awkward for you, I think, but it’s best to stay like that for at least thirty minutes.” He says matter of factly. “You’ve read up on this?” You asked, curious at why he’s doing this. “The website said that elevating the hips in such a way encourages the sperm through the cervix, uterus and into the Fallopian tubes–” You wince. “I get the picture.” He chuckles lightly, “Sorry.” He lays back down beside you, caressing your body softly. “No, it’s…” You pauses for a moment, thinking, and then dissolve into giggles. “It’s what?” He asked. “Cute.” You turn your head to look at him. “The fact that I’ve researched the best sex positions for pregnancy and how long it’s recommended a woman keep her hips elevated after the act…is cute?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile. “Well, when you put it that way…” Your giggles start up again and he rolls his eyes.

If you’re already finding this sort of business ‘cute’, he shudders to think of what you’ll say when he offers to research best birthing practices or worse, if he’s ever forced into wearing a papoose. Still, all embarrassing thoughts aside, he can and will continue to take comfort in the knowledge that you want this, he wants this and you’re about to start a family together. A family. One you will both have for the rest of your lives, and one that will continue on long after you’re both gone. It’s a sobering thought but also a welcomed one. As Shunichiro presses a kiss to your shoulder and closes his eyes, he begins to realize he’ll be just fine with that.

IM Masterlist

[ergofurnitureau]

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[mr-mikas-mess]

Hi hi Mi-chan~! I said I’d request some of ya boys soon~ So May I have some fluff for Ensio and Kai I’m interested in the kinda relationship they have ^^ Plus can’t really say headcanons when they’re your lovely boys XD

YOU ASKED AND YOU SHALL BE ANSWERED~☆I’m so nervous BUT SO EXCITED TOO.Thank you so much for requesting my OCs, that means so much to me~ T^T *gross sobbing*Phew, the first OCs works, for those of you who read, I hope you enjoy ^.^ I realize I didn’t actually give a run down about what the story surrounding them is, so I’ll do that soon ^^;

~~~~

“Honey, I’m home!” A gleeful voice chimed upon entering his home.Kai entered the kitchen and nonchalantly threw his car keys on the kitchen unit. He surveyed the living area, all ounces of exhaustion disappearing once he spotted his beloved.“You’re working late,” he continued, frowning at the man dedicated to his paperwork.“And you’re home late,” Ensio countered, his eyes remaining on his work. “Are you alright? I planned to call you if I hadn’t heard anything by 10,”

Kai stared expressionlessly at him, rapidly blinking a handful of times “Ensio, you realize it’s 2am right?”“Oh… It appears I’ve not managed my time very effectively, how careless of me,“ he stated, what would appear to be calmly to anyone else, however, Kai could sense the disappointment Ensio held against himself. Ensio temporarily halted his work and gracefully abandoned his space so he could approach Kai. "Nonetheless, are you okay?” He inquired, hints of worry scattered throughout his voice but nothing that would shatter his elegant and comforting aura. He gave him a number of frantic visual inspections while awaiting Kai’s answer.

“I’m fine. We had late sessions booked today but everyone wanted to go out for drinks afterwards and couldn’t decide upon a designated driver, so I offered my assistance… I just didn’t think we’d be out so late,” Kai explained, an exasperated sigh filled the air as glanced sorrowfully at the clock. “But darling, where are the kids? And why are you still working?” He playfully questioned. Kai enveloped his shorter counterpart by the shoulders. Tenderly, he tenderly caressed Ensio’s hair and simultaneously concealed his face in his companions neck.

Ensio smiled agreeably at the compassionate embrace and in return, tugged him closer by his waist. “Eru and Hikari are in their rooms, I’d imagine they’re still awake. As for me, I have to get this paperwork finished for Monday,” he attempted to cut the connection early but found himself denied by Kai’s gentle yet unbreakable clasp.“I understand you need to get it finished but it’s only Friday, take a break, you always overwork yourself,” came his muffled and concerned response.“I can’t, I have work tomorrow and there’s a high probability I’ll be given more paperwork,” Ensio attempted to free himself once more, again being declined as Kai desperately latched tighter to him. Feeling Kai’s warm breath against his neck urged him to surrender to his boyfriend’s protective embrace. He’d ferociously fought against the intense tiredness that had consumed his body for hours now, however, he couldn’t give in, not yet.

“Work tomorrow?! You need to be resting if you’ve got another full day. You won’t even get 5 hours sleep Ensio… You can’t keep doing this,” Kai sulked, monitoring Ensio’s health more than he himself. Ensio has a bad habit of overworking and this week had been particularly awful, it was truly a miracle if he’d obtained more than 4 hours sleep.

“I know, I know… I’ll sleep early tomorrow night and catch up on Sunday, okay? But for now I really must finish this,” he persistently protested, finally succeeding in shattering the connection he sincerely wished to indulge in.

Kai pouted and crossed his arms, practically begging the following lines. “Fine… but can you at least take a break with me darling?” “Alright, anything for you my prince,” he playfully gave in, a tired smirk gracing his face. He didn’t have the heart to decline his pleas any longer, more so when he held such a desperate expression.

Kai’s face illuminated at Ensio’s surprising agreement. He’d asked the same question every night this week, however his efforts were in vain as Ensio politely declined.“Did you eat while you were out? I know you said you were working late tonight so I didn’t prepare you anything under the assumption you’d have dinner on your own terms. If not I can prepare you something now?” Ensio doted, his compassion for his family seeping from him.“Ensio will you just sit down and relax please?” He asserted with a soft but dominant voice. “Yes I ate,” He reached out and grasped Ensio’s hands in his own, gently pulling him to the sofa alongside himself.

Ensio chose to sit majestically upright which resulted in a tiny scolding from Kai."Don’t be silly, you need to actually relax or there’s no point.” His eyes were teeming with concern despite the harsh expression he was attempting to display. “Plus, how am I supposed to cuddle up to you?” He added after a small pause.Ensio lightly chuckled “Sorry, I’ve been so busy lately, I’ve not given you the love you deserve,”. He raised his legs and positioned them length ways along the sofa, keeping them parted to allow Kai to sit between them and revel in Ensio’s exotic touch. “Here, my prince,” he dragged Kai into him, firmly encasing by the waist with his arms for a second time; belatedly granting Kai’s desire.

Ensio tentatively brought his lips to Kai’s skin and placed a delicate yet lingering kiss on his cheek, ensuingly resting his head on his companion’s shoulder. Kai clutched Ensio’s hands with one hand, permitting the other to explore his partner’s silky hair. Having his arm suspended in the air to play with Ensio’s hair was rather uncomfortable, however, he found immense pleasure within this subtle act of affection so he wouldn’t allow such a small inconvenience to interrupt this.

“It’s funny that you call me prince, when you’re the most regal one of the group,” kai chuckled, twirling a gathering of Ensio’s hair until it slipped through his fingers.“Is that so? Well, you’re my prince,” he hummed in response, placing another lasting kiss at the base of his neck.

“Disgusting.” Hikari scoffed through his scowl. “That’s my appetite ruined.”“Hey, hey, don’t be so mea~n, Hikari. Ensio’s been working so hard for us, let him enjoy being with Kai. They su~per duper deserve it,” Eru boisterously defended, childishly dragging out some of his words.“Whatever.” Hikari strutted across the kitchen, blanking the happy couple and targeted the fridge. Eru trailed behind him with his arms extended from his side, twirling on the spot when arriving at their destination. They fetched their required beverages and swiftly exited.“Good night,” Eru brightly grinned, closing the previously opened door behind him.“Hikari, that was a nicer comment than I thought you’d say, well done,” Eru’s bubbly praise could still be heard as they marched back to their rooms.“Touch my face again and I’ll end you.” Came Hikari’s barely audible yet hostile threat.The duo laughed in unison, a smile long remaining on Ensio’s face.

After confirming the pair had left, Kai flicked on the TV and promptly put on the first appealing show he found “I hope you don’t mind watching this,” He had intentionally chosen something to relax his overworked partner.“You know I adore cooking programs,” Ensio’s tired eyes began to gleam as he watched intensely; not that Kai could see that, however, he could detect the minor excitement buried in his calm voice that others would be oblivious to.

An amused giggle escaped Kai’s lips “You’re adorable,”“It’s wonderful to know I appeal to you” Ensio responded, his eyes glancing to the man caged within his loving arms.“More than you could imagine,” he chuckled to himself.

A small quantity of minutes later Kai felt Ensio’s head softly drop on his shoulder.“Did you fall asleep already?“ He questioned, fully aware of the answer.As planned, having Ensio relax for a mere second put him straight to sleep.

Kai cautiously escaped from his resting partner’s grip, ensuring he’d remain sleeping.Kai put faith in his strength and Ensio’s tendency to sleep heavily; he delicately snaked his arms beneath his beloved and cradled him adjacent to his chest.He silently scrambled to Ensio’s room, safeguarding the defenceless man from collisions with the doorway.

Ensio was leisurely lowered to the comfort of his bed and securely tucked in. It was a relieving sight, Ensio’s beautiful but tired self finally being enveloped in rest. “You need to look after yourself more Ensio… I know you work hard to look after us but how are you supposed to do that if you don’t look after yourself,” Kai mumbled to himself, his eyes darting to the final issue at hand.

Ensio had clutched Kai’s hand in his own, preventing him from leaving. He smirked to himself and attentively crawled in next to Ensio; He placed a delicate and loving kiss on Ensio’s forehead before conclusively embracing him once more. "Sleep well, my love.”

[arcticficialbanana]

Werewolf Christmas

Pairing: Seth Clearwater x Hybrid Reader (Klaus Mikaelson style) One-Shot

Word Count: 14,401

Warnings: Swearing, implied nudity, loss of memory, mentions of blood, emotional resistance, explicit smut at the end of the story.

Reader Request: “I was wondering if you'd consider writing a Twilight based fic; specifically, Seth Clearwater x reader? One where they're imprints and the reader is a hybrid (half wolf, half vamp) all Christmas fluff (my absolute fucking favourite holiday of the year ohmygoodness) maybe even some smut Also -not sure if you watch the vampire diaries or the originals - but I was hoping the reader could be that kind of hybrid? Lore-wise (if that's ok!)”

A/N: You’ve got it @draiela! Just in time for post-holiday blues, there is a tiny bit of Christmas fluff in here. There is SO much going on in this story though with the whole crossover universe. I got super sucked into it once I started, so it took me over a month to write. This story helped me learn my weakness is writing one-shots. Every time I thought of ending it I popped up with more ideas for the story.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Start with these, just pack them up in the boxes-do you know how to package the boxes?” A thin woman in a pale blue blouse glances up at the tall, gangly man with Russet colored skin.

 He nods and lifts his hands as though he is about to demonstrate, but the woman continues, “Alright, so just pack it up and stack them by the door for return, then you’ll be done for the day.”  She crosses her arms and leans back to look up at the young man, “Got it?”

“Boxes here, leave nothing but the tables.” He gives a tedious thumbs up, but receives no smile from the woman. She points to the back corner of the room, “It’ll be easier if you start there. I’ll be at the front desk, but I hope you don’t have any questions for me because I’m not in charge around here.” She waits for his nod and walks back into the hall.

Standing alone in the room he rolls up his shirt sleeves and brushes his fingers through his thick dark hair, “Okay Seth, you’ve got this.”

 You pull down the hem of your skirt, straightening out the wrinkles around your thighs. Such a long meeting and not once did your boyfriend even glance at you. As the manager of this branch he was in charge of leading the meeting, but he didn’t even give you specific directions for the event.  You frown and play with the button on your collar nervously, wondering if he is angry with you for something. “Sure, just lump me in with all of the temps.” you grumble to yourself, annoyed that he gave instructions to all of the long-term employees but didn’t name you for anything note-worthy.  “What am I, chopped meat?” You sigh and notice a woman giving you the stink-eye from a few seats down. You bite your lip and grab your coffee to escape the room.

 The air stings your eyes and you rush to the bathroom before anyone catches your embarrassing breakdown. As you hurry down the hall you hear a clatter from a room just up ahead.  It catches you by surprise, making you peek through the door and look around the stacked boxes and bare tables. Is there a cat or something in here? you wonder and see something shine against the wall.  You jump and startle yourself, but it was only your reflection in the mirror. You calm down for a moment, but then a dark figure emerges from behind a line of boxes and before you can scream you flash out of there and run into the bathroom.  You don’t even realize if you were scared of the towering shadow or just crying in front of strangers, but you decide to ignore the question by splashing your face with cold water.  A trickle streams down the side of your neck and leaves an unpleasant wet mark on your blouse. You shake your hands in front of yourself, trying to remain calm.  You close the lid of the toilet and sit down to give yourself a few minutes. Am I imagining things? you rehash the last few months, cycling through memories of romantic gestures and not-so-romantic ones. That’s just the way he is, right? He’s always been focused on business and building his future. You nod to yourself, agreeably, but then you stop when you feel a pressure behind your eyes again. Right. His future. You try to think of a time he’d ever made plans farther than two weeks out that included you.

 Just then the door knob rattled and you hopped off the seat with a start, “Just a minute!” you shout to the other side and flush the toilet to conclude your wallowing session.

 Seth stares at his sister with contemplation. He barely notices his head is slipping slowly off his hand, until he slides off and punches himself in the forehead.

 “Whatever it is, can you go talk about it before our next pack meeting? I don’t want your thoughts shouting at everyone when we’re trying to focus.” Leah says with disregard.  Seth squirms uncomfortably in his seat, unsure if he should bring the subject up with Leah. Watching her put dishes away with the grace of a wild boar he decides not only would it be insensitive, but she doesn’t have the bedside manner to make him feel better anyway.

 “I’m going to Jacob’s.” Seth jumps off the stool and doesn’t bother to grab his coat, even though the snow outside has been coming down regularly for the last two days.

 Leah doesn’t bother responding, but waves her hand lazily over her shoulder as Seth pats her back and walks out.

 Steam evaporates off Seth’s skin as snowflakes touch him, temporarily cooling his body. He wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to talk to Jacob or Sam about this, since Sam might be able to give him more guidance.  He looks back at the small house, unsure if Leah will be mad that he chose to talk to the man that broke her heart over his own sister.

 “It’s nothing personal, Leah.” he whispers as the faint glow disappears from his view.

 A short while later he walks through a frail screen door, shaking water off his body, “Hey Emily,” Seth says as a woman with a warm smile looks up at him from a weaving loom.  “Sam is just getting out of the shower.” Emily automatically responds as she weaves a shuttle through the weft threads.  “Can’t I come to visit with you?” Seth throws his hands to his chest in mock heartbreak and falls on his knees a few feet away from Emily.  “You’re sweet.” Emily smiles and shakes her head with an internal giggle, just as Sam appears through the doorway.

 “Seth. What’s going on?” Sam puts his hands on his hips, eyeing Seth and Emily without humor.

 Seth stands up respectfully and looks at Sam with pain in his eyes, “Could I talk to you...privately?”

 Sam quickly glances at Emily before nodding back at Seth, “Come with me.” he says and stretches his arms overhead as he walks through a back door.

 “Go on, what’s on your mind.” Sam motions for Seth to take a seat on a log standing upright.

 Sam yawns as he watches Seth kick the snow off the log with his foot. Seth takes a seat, leans his elbows down to his knees and rests his head atop his fists.  “I imprinted on someone today.” Seth says, after Sam sits across from him,  awaiting Seth’s confession.  “Seth!” Sam says heartily, reaching over to pat his large palm on Seth’s shoulder, “That’s fantastic!” he smiles broadly, like a proud father.  Seth looks to the ground in disappointment and Sam furrows his brow in confusion, “Well, who is it?” he asks excitedly.

“I don’t know.” Seth says in grief.

 “You...don’t know?” Sam shakes his head controversially, “You have to know. That’s not possible.” Sam says, well aware that in order to imprint you must see a person face to face.

 “I um..” Seth starts, scratching the back of his neck where a leaf fell and tickled him, “You know how I took a job off the reservation so that I can buy resources to build a house?”  Sam nods his head, well aware of the difficulties of sharing a home with Leah Clearwater. Especially in the recent years, he thinks to himself with a tinge of guilt.  “I was working when I saw her reflection in a mirror. When I turned around I felt everything stop. She looked at me and my body ached for her to come closer. Everything turned black around me and I could only hear the sound of her breathing.” Seth placed his face in his hands, recounting it as though it were a tragedy.  “It certainly sounds like you’ve imprinted. So what is the problem?” Sam asks uncertainly, questioning Seth’s depressing demeanor.

 “She ran away.” Seth whimpered into his hands.

 “She was so fast. I tried to come after her, but by the time I reached the hall she was gone.” Seth felt the burning pain on his skin from her absence.

 Sam’s face dropped, feeling a shade of understanding for Seth’s poor situation. Seth continued on in despair, “I don’t know her name, I couldn’t tell her what she means to me, I don’t know where to find her...”  “She probably works there.” Sam reminds him, making Seth feel like an idiot. He was shocked that he hadn’t realized it earlier- of course she worked there, of course he could find her again!  “Your mind is clouded. Don’t bring yourself down.” Sam reassures, perfectly coming to the conclusion that Seth hadn’t thought of it before because he was in so much pain from feeling her loss.

 “You said...” Seth’s joy fades away as his muscles pulse once again with a stabbing ache, “When you were with Leah, and you imprinted on Emily...”

 “That every step away from her made my body sore with misery.” Sam took a deep breath, feeling a very light discomfort being outside of the house while Emily sat across the walls.

 “How do I ...what do I do?” Seth begs of Sam’s experience, hoping for a fleck of inspirational answers.

 “Until you find her? Learn to breath through the pain. That strain on your body won’t go away, even after you have her by your side. If we go on a pack hunt you will still feel the pull to her -they become the only sense of pleasure in life you will feel. You will feel a draw to the pack, but it is only a sense of duty, not joy.” Sam reflects.

 “Live with this?” Seth whispers to himself desperately, only able to compare the feeling to a vampire attack he once felt.

 “It will ease when she accepts you as her mate.” Sam encourages, but to Seth each hour until he can come back to find her will feel like a laceration. Each minute he will feel the absence of breath in his chest.

 You decide that if you aren’t important enough to have a designated task, you will designate one for yourself. You doodle a design of Christmas decorations into your notepad and walk around the building, jotting down notable spots to place lights and miniature trees.

 A group of employees shimmy through the double doors at the front of the building. You spot your boyfriend at the tail end of the group and speed to catch up to him, “Hey honey!”

 As everyone hustles outside you make your way to his side and tug on his sleeve, making him turn his head in your direction, “Oh, hello darling.” He says casually and steps to the side of the doors, “That was you? Please don’t shout at me like that here, Y/N, it’s very unprofessional.”  He slides his hands along the outside of your arms and you look down to hide the little flush of pink to your face, “Oh, right. Big boss man, huh?” You tease and he reaches for your hands.  “Hopefully one day.” He cajoles and gives you a tender squeeze in your palms, “Is there something that you needed?” He asks as he drops your hands to wave at a passing executive.  “I-well no actually.” You give a half smile, trying to come up with something to talk to him about so that you can keep his attention a few minutes longer.

 “Alright, well we’ve got a group lunch,” He starts to walk through the doors and with a sudden question you follow him outside into the windy snow.

 “When are we going to have dinner? You never rescheduled, and I’ve been saving my new dress to show off for you!” You winked and shivered as a snowflake touched your forehead.  “Oh, yes,” He looks up at the sky, squinting into the haze and thinking of something deeply, “I suppose tonight will do, since you’re starting classes again soon?” He closes his eyes for a moment, “I feel like I am forgetting something-”  You cover your arms defensively and feel goosebumps prickle over your skin, “Well actually,” you start but someone passing by remarks, “Come on, the reservation is already pushed back an hour.”

 “Yes, yes, post-haste,” He swivels his head and turns back to you with a warm smile, “Look at you darling, you are freezing. Go back inside, I will call you later.” he tightens up on his coat as he eyes your sweater dress with rolled up sleeves and no outerwear. You hadn’t planned on going outside after all.  You stand in front of him with concern written on your face but he doesn’t notice because he is looking over your shoulder, “Could you please get her inside?” he motions above you and then leans down to give you the briefest peck on the forehead, “Don’t catch a cold.” he whispers as he turns away and walks off.

 Your body was shaking and you weren’t sure how to react, feeling a mixture of emotions from sweetness to angst. Something behind you makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck, more so with the cold prickling you all over.  A large jacket weighs heavy on your shoulders as you are enveloped in warmth. You are still as you watch your boyfriend’s back disappear down the street within a crowd.  A furnace is radiating behind you, making all of the snow melt away from your hair, but still you don’t move.

 “Are you in shock?” A voice says above you and you don’t answer right away, but as the flurries screen your boyfriend out of view you finally catch your breath, “No.”

 Arms wrap around you, feeling as though you are engulfed in flames. Either the frost was burning you, or someone with a high fever is hugging you from behind.  You look up and encounter a face, pressed into your hair, and suddenly you feel a sense of anger, “What are you doing?!” you ask without moving.

 “Let’s get you inside.” he says softly, and with what sounds like great care. In a daze, you allow him to guide your shoulders back toward the building and through the doors.  He takes you to an armchair and waits for you to sit down. Something makes you feel as though you should, so you lower yourself into the chair.

 “Who are you?” You ask, not recognizing his boyish face.

 “Seth Clearwater.” He says, and you remember something about a Native American reservation less than 40 minutes from here.

 “Are you from the..um..?” You pinch your forehead, trying to remember the name of the tribe.

 “Quileute tribe.” He smiles, “What gave it away?” He must be saying jokingly, between his darkened features, his high cheekbones, and his name.

 In place of a laugh you aren’t sure what to do so you say, “I’m Y/N.” His eyes widen as you say your name and he looks as though he is staring into a fire - bright, but unable to look away.  “What are you doing here?” You ask after a beat, fighting off an impending blush from his gaze.  “Working.” He smiles a childish smile full of kindness and innocence. But his smile isn’t the only childish look about him.  “Are you old enough to work here?” You ask skeptically and he lets out a deep laugh, one filled with recognition as though he is familiar with this line.  “I think we’re about the same age.” He says and you look him over with suspicion. Either he doesn’t know how old you are, or he has some very youthful genetics.  “I just have boyish good looks.” He winks and you can’t help but laugh as your face burns from finally warming up to the indoor heat.

 You notice something in his lap and hesitate for a moment, “Is that my notebook?” you ask, staring at the yellow lined pad.  “You left it here when you went outside, I thought you might forget it,” He says shyly, holding it tightly in one hand.  “Thanks,” You say hesitantly, thinking that what he says sounds normal, but the way he is acting feels more purposeful.  “Did you do these drawings?” He asks as he holds up the notepad against his chest, and you look at the scribbles with a flush of awkwardness.  “Doodles, more like it...” you say and reach one hand out to take the sketches away.  “Is this here? Are you decorating?” He asks excitedly, subtly moving the notepad away.  “Erm, I was just coming up with ideas. Christmas is kind of my thing, and everybody else here is a little bit busy with other event planning.” You draw a circle with your finger on your knee, distracting yourself from his dark brown eyes constantly searching your face.  “Could I help?” Seth asks, dark eyes filled with bright hope.

 You think about how useful it would be to have another set of hands, avoiding thoughts of your inexplicable allure to Seth.

 “S-sure.” you decide and in reaction he jumps up with a thrill, but before you can even giggle you realize how much he towers over you- boyish face or not,  “That height will come in handy,” You mouth under your breath, glad not to carry around a step ladder for the string lights.

***

 Heat sears your back in a pleasantly soft burn. You shift your body and feel your skin rub against a tender wall of warmth. It feels comfortable and you realize that your body is being perfectly cradled along all of it’s curves. When you lay there you feel peaceful, but with a slight movement you can tell that something is pressed up against your legs, curved around your rear, and nuzzled between your shoulder blades.

 Realization slowly dawns over you and your eyes snap open. Something is pressed all along your skin. You can feel it all over your naked skin! You cling to your chest protectively and lift your head, observing your surroundings.  Unfortunately, it is very dark and you cannot decipher very much other than faint stars glimmering through high clouds overhead. Stars and clouds that were unobstructed by a roof...Okay, so I’m outside. You conclude, feeling a knot in your stomach too tight to look over your shoulder and find what you already fear is behind you.  A gentle moan forces you to turn around, confirming your suspicions. There lay a perfectly stark naked Seth Clearwater. Your eyes roam over his torso before quickly snapping away from his hip bones.  Dammit, for a gangly guy who looks pretty underage when dressed...You realized that he sure did look very adult without any clothes on. Although his frame was slight, his muscles were quite abundant. Although they were on the leaner side, he definitely could lift a fully grown Fir tree like a teacup.  Oh fuck, what are you thinking about right now? You bring a hand to your face, shaking the thoughts out of your head. Get a hold of yourself.

 You try to figure out what got you here; to this place, with this person, without a stitch of clothing on your body. You look down at your chest and scream in horror as you realize your collarbones are brushed from shoulder to shoulder in warm blood.

 “Y/N!” Seth props up from his serene sleep and jumps to your side, “Shh, I’m here, you’re safe.” he coos.

 “What are you talking about?!” You shriek in astonishment, completely bewildered by the entire situation.

  Seth looks deeply into your eyes and his face wrinkles with concern. His arms twitch as though he is about to wrap his arms around you, but he is clearly restraining himself. You flinch nervously in the dragging moments of silence.

 “Y/N.” Seth says your name very carefully, “What do you remember?”

 You narrow your eyes at him and prepare yourself for what might be the worst, “About last night?”

 Seth takes a deep gulp and digs his fingernails into the tops of his thighs, “Okay,” he says and raises a questioning eyebrow, “What do you remember about last night?”

 You look out into the darkness, turning your face away from Seth, and think hard about last night. Nothing in particular comes to mind, good or bad, and you chew your lip uncomfortably.

 “Not much really...” you say in defeat, hoping that he didn’t slip something ungentlemanly in your drink. 

 Seth is silent as he observes your struggle to recall a single detail of the night or day.

 “Wait,” you huddle over yourself in total awareness of your nudity suddenly, “Why are we naked? Where are my clothes? Why are we outside?”

 Seth looks around for something to cover you with, but nothing surrounds you other than rocks, dirt, and snow. With your nose huddled into your thighs you are suddenly very aware that you are cold without Seth’s ridiculous body warmth to keep you toasted. Come to think of it, you notice from your precarious position that the circle around you is free of snow, while a light layer is blanketed all around.

 You shiver and tilt your head up ever so slightly to see if Seth has anything to say. It seems he is fighting an internal battle of his own, from the way he keeps opening and closing his mouth.

 “What ..do you ..remember from the last ..few days?” Seth asks very slowly and with great resistance from himself.

 You scan the ground as though it were a scrapbook of your brain and after shifting your eyes left and right you reconnect with Seth’s gaze, “We were hanging Christmas lights, right? Oh shit, my boyfriend was supposed to call me tonight - where’s my phone?”

 Seth’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open a little, “Y/N...” he breaths a labored breath, “We left town a few days ago.”

 You blink several times to chew over what Seth just said. Your body gets hotter and you unfurl yourself from your fetal position to lean upwards.

 Your breath becomes heavier and you attempt faster breathing to receive more oxygen to your brain. This only causes you to begin to hyperventilate and Seth puts his hands on your shoulders.

 “I don’t know what to say, but you can’t panic right now.” He says with an urgency and moves his hands to your face.

 Seth’s hands engulf your face as though you were a tiny porcelain doll. He is on fire and you welcome his touch this time.

 “Why not.” you ask inexplicably. You had every reason to panic right now. You had no idea what could possibly explain everything in a way that wouldn’t make you hysteric. To ask why you shouldn’t panic was only a hopeful gesture that perhaps you were missing a piece of the puzzle.

 “You’re going to shift again.” he whispered as though it were something natural to say.

 Your eyes pool with blurry vision and you blink away a tiny puddle forming below your line of sight, “What do you mean?” you whisper back.

 Seth sighs and wipes away a stream of tears from your cheek, “I’m going to do something, and I don’t want you to try to analyze it too much.”

 A deep wrinkle forms in your forehead and are about to tell Seth that you don’t understand what he means but he reiterates, “Just don’t try to figure out what happened. Make sure to keep breathing steadily. No matter what, stay close to me.”

 You realize you’d stopped breathing and after he finished speaking you took in a gasp of cold wintry breath. Without waiting for your acceptance he continues, “I’m going to shift, and I want you to climb on my back. I’ll take us somewhere safe so we can get dressed and talk.”

 Your throat stings from the bitter air but you feel your head automatically nod to Seth. He stands up and you look away with a blush. It looked as though his body was glistening. Was he sweating? How could he sweat in this drastic cold. Why is he so hot? Does he have a fever?

 A few feet away he crouches down and plants one hand into the ground while extending the other outward for balance. His face was serious as he looked up at you, “It’s going to be alright. Trust me.”

 For some reason, you did trust Seth.

 He looked at the floor and your ears started popping as you heard the sound of snapping and possibly bone cracking. You sat up straight, mesmerized by the sight before you. Seth’s slight and long body enlarged and twisted in what could have been an instant. His brown skin became brown fur, and his head was several times the size to which you were accustomed.

 A chill ran through you, and you wanted severely to crawl onto his fur and warm up. 

 Seth’s eyes stared at you from the body of a Wolf.

 He swung his head toward his body and bore into your eyes with his own until you stood up. He leaned down to the ground and chuffed a sound that sounded like a cough or a whine.

 You tilted your head as you walked toward him and reached your hand out as you approached the great Wolf. Your hand ran along his fur, soft and thick. You leaned over to his head and rubbed one of his ears, prompting a deep breath from the Wolf.

 He lifted his head and jerked his muzzle upward at his back. You instinctively understood his intention and climbed up to his back. Just as you had imagined, you burrowed into his fur and like a coat it surrounded you all around your body. You gripped two handfuls of fur tightly and he stood up with one swift motion.

 Suddenly you could feel his body rumbling with breath. You would guess you were running, but your head was buried in him and the fur around you shielded you from any windy air. Your bed was rocking rhythmically, so you supposed that he was in a steady gallop already.

 You could have fallen asleep if it weren’t for the nervous excitement, not to mention his body too hot for comfort at this point. 

 A short while later you felt an incline, guessing that he had taken a seat. You look up above the thicket and see that you are on a ranch in the desert. At least you think you are on a ranch in the desert. There isn’t any snow, and there is a lot of sand and red dirt.

 The great head lifts up and drops down, signaling your arrival. You release your fistfuls of fur and step down from his back.

 The Wolf takes a few steps away and jumps from a rocky ledge down a few feet. You stand on your tippy toes and see the edges of Seth’s body, crouched down as it was before.

 He stands and you automatically avert your eyes again. You refrain from saying anything until you can get some sort of cover for your body.

 “Here, the door is unlocked.” Seth walks over to the ranch home and opens the door. He waits for you to come through, protectively looking behind you for any signs of danger.

 You dip your head as you pass him and walk into a scantly furnished room. You see a set of clothes on two chairs and you run up to snatch a button up shirt from one chair.  You tug it over your head before Seth can turn the lamp on and you spin around. Once you face him you realize that he isn’t dressed yet, so you grab the pants and throw them in his general direction.

 “Here already!” you shout with a crack in your voice.

 Seth pulls on the Dungarees, fitting him just fine. He takes a step toward the other chair and picks up the remaining clothes. He pulls out the linen bottoms and places them in front of you.

 “The waistband is adjustable.” He points at a drawstring as he backs up to the free chair.

 You tug them on without any particular gracefulness and slam yourself down in the chair to comfortably adjust the pants. You work your jaw as you think of your first question and pull your legs up to your chest in the seat.

 “Am I high?” You ask resolutely.

 “No.” Seth answers, patiently awaiting you to mentally adjust before delving into too much detail.

 “Where are we?” You ask, never having been on a ranch in your many travels, but the tell tale signs were quite obvious.

 “New Mexico.” Seth crosses his arms over his chest, engorging his biceps.

 “New Mexico...” you repeat to yourself, trying to calculate how far exactly that would mean you are from home.

 “That’s nearly 27 hours away?” You say incredulously.

 “Driving it is...” Seth says cryptically.

 “Was I just riding a Wolf for over a full day’s trip non-stop?” Your eyes widen in disbelief, many thoughts running through your head.

 “No. We rode about 40 minutes South East from where we were.” Seth chooses his words carefully.

 “We rode? Where were you?” You start and Seth brings a hand to his mouth. You shake your head and declare, “It’s at least a three hour ride to get from snow like that to dry desert like this, what do you mean 40 minutes?”

 Seth raises his eyebrows and is about to speak but you can’t help but stare at his distracting toned physique, “First, could you please put that shirt on?”

 Seth chuckles as he raises the corners of the shirt up to his shoulders, “I think this one was meant for you.” He demonstrates that the hem of the shirt only reaches his navel from the top of his torso.

 “Oh.” you look down at your shirt, realizing that it practically drifts down to your knees. You instinctively place your hands on your breasts and Seth smiles slyly, “You don’t have to take it off.”

 You walk up to him, knowing full well that if you don’t put that shirt on, that he will remain half-dressed while you try to keep your eyes up to his face. You stare him defiantly in the eyes and snatch the shirt from his hands.  A flash of surprise crosses his face before he is taken over by an impressive laughter. You turn to a hallway, assuming one of them must be a bathroom where you can change.  You open the first door on the left to a laundry room, with two outdated Frigidaire machines. Close enough. You decide and quickly swap out the shirts, feeling self conscious about your lack of bra or panties. Oh well, I always wanted to go commando.  You walk out to the main room and toss the flannel at Seth, “Button up, buttercup.” you say sharply and he smirks a childish smile.

 As he finishes off the last bottom buttons you spin in a frenzy of questions, “What are we doing here? What does everyone back home think? Do they know where we are? Where I am? Why are we going South?”

 “South East.” Seth corrects and you gape at him.

 “What is in the South East?!” You shout.

 “New Orleans.” Seth raises an eyebrow at you.

 You shut your mouth and flutter your head left to right before hissing, “Why are we going to New Orleans?”

 “You were looking for answers.” Seth stated so confidently that you felt like New Orleans might have all of the answers to what is going on right now.

 “Is one of those answers going to tell me what question I’m asking?” You snap back.

 Seth rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and runs his hands through his hair before pulling up the chair directly across from you.  “Ask me what you’ve been avoiding asking.” he leans in toward you, placing his forearms atop his thighs.

 You are taken aback by this forward command, but you decide to comply is in your best interest so you inhale sharply through your nose, “Where were you when I was riding the Wolf?”

 “I am a shape-shifter.” Seth answers instantly, “The Quileute tribe in La Push is an ancient bloodline of shape-shifters meant to protect against vampires.” He stops himself from going further.

 “You? You were the Wolf?” You squinted at Seth’s face, closely inspecting his eyes for any signs of faltering.

 “Think about what you saw. You watched me shift.” He says firmly.

 “You keep saying shift. You said I was going to shift.” You lean in closer to Seth, “Am I a shape-shifter?” You inquire.

 “You’re a Lycanthrope. As far as I can tell.” Seth says without wavering.

 “What’s the difference?” You ask petulantly.

 “Shape-shifters take the form that resembles their ancestral fathers. Lycanthropes are children of the moon.” Seth briefly describes.

 “I don’t understand what that means.” You admit.

 “You can’t be a shape-shifter because you’re not a descendant of Taha Aki-” Seth stops when he sees the look of utmost confusion on your face, “It doesn’t matter. You are a little bit different than me.”

 “But we are alike?” You add to his explanation.

 “Yes, we are alike in some ways.” He smiles gently to himself.

 You sit in the chair, jiggling your foot in anticipation. You are trying to connect all of the dots, but it’s still not adding up to a complete explanation.  Somewhere in the house a window whistles from a crack in the frame or old wooden joists.  You suck your lip into your mouth and rake your teeth against it neurotically, breaking up dry skin on it’s surface.

 “I think you can see everything that happened, once we get to the New Orleans.” Seth mirrors your posture and your lip chewing, feeling particularly tuned in to your body.

 “What’s in New Orleans?” you ask timidly, not feeling as confident as Seth that the answers to any questions will be revealed there.

 “A witch doctor.” Seth says, earning a maniac chuckle from you, “I think anyway. Based off of your description.” He amends, but your laugh only becomes more hysteric.

 “My description?” You get out between humorless wheezes.

 “It won’t make as much sense if I try to explain it to you now. I’m sure you’ll remember or...be shown, if we go there.” Seth shakes his head apologetically.

 “Okay. Then, can we go now?” You ask eagerly.

 Seth looks out the window ambivalently and scratches his shoulder, “You don’t feel like you need rest?” He asks without pushing you.

 “I feel like the only thing I need right now is to get to New Orleans as soon as possible.” You say with a newfound determination, of inexplicable origin, “How fast can we get there?”

 Seth takes a deep breath and calculates in his head, “Um... Seven? Seven and a half hours?” he waves a hand in the air noncommittally.

 You stare at him in a vague stupor of awe, “That would ...we’d be going like 150 miles an hour? What are you, a helicopter?”

 “If we hadn’t been running around so much for several days straight I might have been able to get us there in five.” Seth says cockily wagging his head.

 You raise an eyebrow at him but your priority is already set, so you decide to let his actions speak for themselves.  “Alright, let’s get a move on,” you stand up before taking a second look around the house, “Uh, what about...” you point your finger around the room and down at your clothes.  “It’s okay, we were expected. It was meant to be a pitstop.” Seth answers your incomplete question. Although you weren’t very sure of what you were asking.

 After witnessing another phasing -and feeling slightly less comfortable in your clothes than the first time riding bare- you arrive in a narrowly populated area outside of NOLA. You wait for the Wolf to disappear and Seth to come back to you and you hand him his borrowed clothes.

 “Where now?” you ask, expecting Seth to know the way, but he seems to look around the dawn-lit park without direction.

 “You don’t know?” you gape at him, to which he lifts his shoulders innocently, “You just said she was in New Orleans.” he replies sheepishly.

 “Right.” you say. I just said New Orleans. You decide this is ridiculous and this guy definitely roofied you and possibly even put you on some harder drugs that are making you see crazy dire wolves and body morphing humans and now he is trying to convince you that you decided to go to New Orleans and you are believing all of this bullshit-

 “Hey,” Seth takes your hand and places it between his two palms, warm and inviting. He looks deeply into your eyes and something slithers inside you and slows down your racing heartbeat, makes you feel safe and calm.

 “This is how cults start...” you whisper barely audibly under your breath, and Seth lets out a relieved smile, completely unfazed by your remark.

 “We’ll find her, let’s start walking.” He says, keeping your hand in one of his palms, tenderly but keeping a needy grip.

 You follow Seth hypnotically as the two of you pass intoxicated groups of good-time chasers, and young sloppy kissing teenagers. The bright green, purple, and yellow colors of the streets are festive and make you feel giddy with excitement. You remember this place from when you were a child.  Your father moved you place to place, but you remember there were some years that you stayed here in town. Some years that your father would bring you back on visits, but they were short and seemingly random.  You blinked as you crossed over Bourbon Street and bright lights flashed overhead and all around you. Seth kept walking and as you made your way to quieter, more residential areas, you observed the gorgeous architecture of the 1800-1900s homes.  Side by side were Creole cottages and historic mansions, each adorned with tiny blinking lights of many colors. Some of the smaller homes had the most brilliant displays of tinsel and ornaments hanging from their porches, while the mansions had intricate and elegantly lined up strings of bulbs. Wreaths embellished every door, and candles were lit in most windowpanes.

 After a few turns along side streets and main streets you two slow down. You look up at Seth and he is watching you silently.  “What’s up?” you ask, self-consciously, and Seth smirks a knowing smile, “Where are we going now?” He asks.  You furrow your brow at him and stop walking, “What? Don’t you know?” you interrogate, “You’ve been walking us so certainly around the streets!”  Seth tilts his head at you with that same smile and says, “You’ve been leading the way.”  You blink up at him, thinking of a response for a moment, “Well...” you wonder if he is pulling your leg, “I guess I was just admiring the houses.”  Seth makes a skeptical ‘O’ with his mouth and nods sarcastically as he turns to look around the neighborhood, “Hmm. This is inconspicuous.” he says, making you look around as well.

 It’s pretty residential, with a bodega on the corner and a couple of businesses and restaurants scattered randomly between homes. Your eye spots a graceful little parlor, garnished with cool colored paints and fabrics.  “That’s pretty.” You say and automatically start walking toward the door. Seth springs along behind you as you turn the large brass knob of the carved oak door. A bell chimes a tinny sound overhead, although the room seemed empty of attendants.  Inside you see many herbs hanging from the ceiling, although you’re not sure if it is permanent or a Christmasy decoration. It smells of Sage and lavender all around.

 You walk past shelves, inspecting old leather bound books and glass jars filled with pebbles and marbles of all kinds. A crystal dome sparkles under lights and you lean in to inspect it’s contents.  “Woah.” Seth says at something a few feet to your left. When you turn to see what caught his attention, you were diverted to a vial hanging from a wire rack.  Many different vials were scattered along the wrought iron bar, but this one seemed to be shimmering inside. Or at least you thought it was moving or something.

 “Hello.” a warm voice approaches.

 You peel your eyes away from the vial and come face to face with a beautiful dark skinned woman. Her hands were clasped in front of herself and you noted the many rings from knuckle to knuckles on each finger of her hands.

 “H-hi,” you say meekly, unable to look away from her mesmerizing eyes. Yellow rimmed the outside of her dark pupils, with flecks of light brown smattered throughout her iris. You’d only ever met one person with yellow eyes before, and it wasn’t as beautiful as this woman’s.  Her skin was so black that her eyes almost seemed to glow inside their sockets. The lighting in the room wasn’t very bright, and in it’s dimness it almost seemed as though she were a cat -turned human.  She smiles with a glint and reaches her arm overhead to grab a handful of the leather cords carrying pendants and ampoules. Her forehead is wrapped with a silk scarf, keeping coarse hair out of her face. As she pulled her arm back you could smell the alluring scent of amber.

 “Come with me.” she says enigmatically, and you feel Seth’s hands on your shoulders. He remains silent, and you follow this mysterious woman in a trance-like march.

 You walk through a beaded curtain to a short hallway which ends at the entrance to a dining room. Or at least it was a room with a table surrounded by chairs. There were placemats on it’s face and a glass of water placed in front of one of the chairs.  You stand at the front of the room awaiting instructions, feeling Seth looming above you. The woman extends her arm toward the chairs, her rolled up sleeve floating down to her wrists.  You walk around the table and choose a chair engraved with the image of a grape-vine. Seth sits next to you in a stained pine chair with a modern 3-leg design.  You anxiously stir in your chair, anticipating what happens next.

 Suddenly, the woman turns around and throws the corded trinkets onto the table and they slide outward to the edges of the table. You flinch, making Seth reach out an arm around your shoulder, comfortably letting you know that he is there.

 “Ah.” She says symbolically and turns to one of the doors, knocking on it’s face, “I think my sister would like to meet you.” she says and sits down one seat away from Seth.

 You and Seth exchange indecisive glances and give one another weary smiles. Is there where I’m supposed to go? You think impatiently, wondering if this is just some showy New Orleans performance to bring in customers.

 The knob turns with a click and out comes an equally dark, casually dressed woman. She has regular brown eyes and thick, short dreadlocks loosely arranged around her head. She sat down in front of the glass of water and moved it out of the way.  You took note of a white fang tattooed on the back of her hand before she started speaking, “My sister tells me that something in our shop interests you.”  You look from her to the yellow-eyed beauty sitting next to her, hands folded neatly on the table. You look to Seth, trying to remember if you spoke to that woman before she led you to the back room. You are pretty sure that you saw her, then you came here, and she didn’t have a chance to talk to her sister yet.  You turn back to them and say, “You have many interesting things, but I don’t think any of this is relevant to my lifestyle.” you say, unsure if this is another sales tactic of theirs.

 “What drew you to that vial there?” She points an unpolished finger at the cord you were inspecting in the front of the shop.

 “It’s shimmery. Just drew my attention, that’s all.” You shrug. Seth squints at the table, looking around all of the contents.

 “Is that all?” The yellow eyed woman taps her long, thin fingers one by one along the face of the table. You don’t get a chance to answer before she says, “Why then, was that vial drawn to you as well?” she says with a sense of determination.

 “What is that supposed to mean?” You say affronted by the weird statement.

 Seth pointed at the vial in front of you, “Are you talking about this one?” he asks the women before turning to you, “Were you looking at this earlier?” Seth asks and you pause a moment before answering, “Well, I was kind of looking at all of them.”  One of the sisters makes a hum and the other clears her throat. Seth points at the other contents of the table, “When she threw that all on the table, this one slid right towards you.” he points out.  “So what? That’s how physics works.” You counter at him defensively and he points closer to the vial, “Did you say that it was shimmering?” he questions.

 “Shimmering, shining, whatever. Just like glittery or something.” you say, quickly glancing at the vial again, pulled in by it’s sparkle.

 “It’s just a vial of blood, Y/N.” Seth says, curiously.

 You turn back to the vial and tilt your head, noticing that it’s not really twinkling after all. Maybe it was just the lights reflecting on the glass or something.

 “It’s a very special vial of blood. Not just anything, young shifter.” The woman with yellow eyes says.

 You spring up, very erect in your chair, quickly glancing at Seth from your peripherals. Seth does not seem nearly as troubled as you are, in fact he seems rather excited.

 “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a child of Taha Aki down here.” Her smile glistens with a devious glint.

 Seth wrinkles up his nose, “I can’t believe I didn’t realize earlier, your’e a -” The woman slams her hands on the table, interrupting Seth with a demanding tone, “I am. I’m not the only one, I’m sure you’ve noticed.” the woman flickers her eyes imperceptibly over to you.

 You look between Seth and the woman, unsure what to make of the half-worded conversation. The sister takes a sip of her water and you turn toward her when the glass clicks down onto the table.

 “Why am I here?” you say to her, deciding that whatever was going on, you may be in the right place after all.

 “You came here on your own.” She says, giving you a moment to think of what you really mean to ask.

 You touch your collarbone, thinking of the blood that was smeared and dry across your skin. You take a deep gulp and look up at the woman, “What am I?” you ask with a vulnerable fear.

 “Ah.” She sits forward and places her wrists on the table, parallel to one another, “My mother told me about you.” she says to your surprise. 

 “You’re going to want to lay down on the table.” She looks between her wrists and the yellow-eyed woman stands up and walks over to you. Seth bristles in her presence tensing his body, but she nods at him and he relaxes.  The woman reaches her hands to you, her sleeves exposing her delicate arms. She motions her head to the table, expecting you to take her hands and climb up onto your chair.  You awkwardly grab her hands and push yourself onto your chair, and take a step onto the table. You feel silly, but everyone else around you is serious, so you crouch down and lay flat on your back. You adjust yourself so that your head is between the sister’s arms, and you look up at her expectantly.

 “I’m going to take you down a journey. It might not make sense at first, but we will go slowly, and you just need to allow yourself to flow through your memories.” She says stoically, and you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to do.

 “You relax. Close your eyes. You might feel a pinch, but don’t resist.” She says, “Go backwards. Let’s unlock what you don’t want to see, then you can reveal what you came to see.”

 Before you can tell her that her words are meaningless nonsense, you feel a tight twist of pain in your head. Your body seizes up, and you feel trapped in place.  You start to panic, feeling your skin fill up with heat, and your breath is icy and sharp. You try to open your eyes, but your eyesight is flooded with a cloudy silver screen.  You watch the environment around you unfold slowly, as trees begin to emerge and sounds of nature surround you. You can’t turn your head, but you see Seth far off with a long handled axe.  As the scene moves left to right you notice the sound of crunching snow echoing. The heat of your skin becomes especially evident when you see dark fur standing upright against a tree. Your vision starts shaking and you feel sharp pain in your lungs.  Large claws scratch up the trunk of the tree, and you feel panic flooding your senses. You don’t move, and your image remains on the mass of fur, guessing it was a bear.   You are frozen in place as you watch it, when a shout behind you catches the attention of the bear. It turns to face you and when it notices you, the great mass crouches down to the ground and charges at you.  A guttural scream fills your ears, and adrenaline rushes through your body. Incapable of running away, you throw your hands out in front of you.  Just then, the bear is thrown against a nearby tree. A flash passes your sight and you look to the bear, where a russet brown Wolf is slamming it’s body against the bear.  It turns it’s massive head to you and before you can let out another scream, you feel your body shaking all over.

 Searing pain stabs through you and breaks into your bones like sledgehammers. You snap and crack and contort your body in unnatural forms. Your blood feels as though it is boiling you from the inside out, and your pain horrifies you from every angle of your body.  Rage fills you in the place of pain, until you feel yourself flung at the bear with an aggressive rush of adrenaline. Something hot in your mouth spills all over you, and it feels sticky and thick.  You whip around to the Wolf and as you see it the beast howls at you and drops to the ground defensively. Something about it’s howl soothes you and puts your rage to peace. Your blood is still hot, but you feel your adrenaline subside.  You kneel down in acknowledgement of it’s amity. It remains in place as it glowers up at you, and you feel a thought pop up into your mind. You’re a Wolf. the thought sounds masculine, and not at all like your normal internal voice.  The Wolf looks at you with dark brown eyes and again a thought speaks up in your head, You’re a Wolf, but you have the thirst for blood.  This time you shake your head, confused about the thought. That’s not something you were thinking. Yet, it was there in your head.  You look down at your body and you are extremely disturbed to see that you are covered in fur...and blood.

 Y/N? Another thought rings in your head, and you echo to yourself, Y/N? But this time in your own voice. The Wolf across from you whines in your direction, and again another voice sounds in you, Do you know what is going on right now?  You look around, making sure you don’t see another person around speaking to you. Confusion grips hold of you and you think to yourself, I don’t know what is going on right now.   The Wolf breaths a heavy breath and stands up, making you more alert. Simultaneously the image on the silver screen fades away and the sounds of the room return to you.

 “That doesn’t make much sense, does it?” The woman above you croaks and you struggle to speak. She shushes you and whispers overhead, “Remain open and receptive. Don’t bring yourself fully back yet. Let’s move farther...”

 You see flashes of you and Seth hanging garlands and hear snippets of your voice describing your disappointment that your boyfriend forgot you always spend the anniversary of your mother’s death with your father.

 “No. Deeper.” The woman’s voice whispers above you, and you fall into a dark and silent state.

 A fuzzier image appears in front of your eyes. It is blurry and hazy, but the voices are clear.  “Please,” A familiar deep sound vibrates overhead, “My daughter is sick. I need you to help her, please.” the voice is full of sorrow mixed with fear and desperation.  Your unstable image reveals a face you know very well. Your father looks weary and tired, as though he hasn’t slept well in many weeks, or months perhaps.   A dark skinned woman with low cut hair rushes over to you and places her arm around your father. She rushes him behind a beaded curtain and seats him down at a table.  “Please,” your father crows and the woman places a hand on his shoulder, “Maxine.” she says invitingly, “What is your name?”  “Th-this is my daughter, Y/N,” your father begs, tears welling in his eyes, “She is very ill. Please, you need to help her, she’s been cursed.” His voice cracks on the last beat.  The woman inspects you head to toe and she turns looks to your father once more, “Why do you say she is cursed?” she says doubtfully.  “She killed her mother.” He gushes with sobs now, “I don’t blame her, I love her more than the world... but it was a complicated birth.” He says through sniffles and sharp gasps of breath.  The woman waits expectantly for your father to regain his composure. She offers him a handkerchief and rubs his arm tenderly. After a few minutes he continues to speak, “Since then... she’s been cursed by the Heavens. Every moon she becomes a beast.” he looks up at Maxine with pleading eyes.  The woman nods knowingly and reassures your father, “It will be alright.” she comforts and stands up to walk through a curtained door.  When she returns she holds a leather cord in her hand with a small glass vial, “It’s okay, I have Hope.”

 You feel hands on your face, your real face, and a voice brings you back to the moment right now. “That’s enough, we don’t want to completely drain one another.” the woman above you says, glistening with sweat, and she takes the glass of water to swallow it down thirstily.

 Your eyes readjust and notice the lights were out, save a few candles against some of the walls. You prop up on your elbows and look down at your body, shaking and drenched in sweat.  You look to the edge of your feet and see Seth is just a breath’s width away from your feet, anxiously watching you. He is holding his elbows, tightly crossed over one another, and propping his head up.

 Seth’s face flashes you back to your first incomplete memory,  “What were we doing in the woods?” You ask, feeling out of breath and parched.  “You said you wanted to get a real tree, and asked if I could manage to cut one down and carry it back.” Seth says, a very drooping and exhausted smile on his face.  He looks on the verge of passing out, but for the moment your head is still reeling from the trip you just experienced. Carefully, you turn your head to one of the sisters, “What was that? Why was my Dad here?” your voice was hoarse and dry.  You look at the woman with yellow eyes and she is carefully cradling something small and glass in her open hand. You feel a shiver run over your body and you ask, “Was that the same ...I saw that in Maxine’s hand?” you turn to the sister next to you.  “That there is Hope.” she points at the vial.

  You shake your head in disbelief. Actually, more than disbelief you were feeling a great deal of questions bringing on a massive migraine.  “Let’s start from the beginning.” She says and wipes a bead of sweat from her brow, “Do you know who your mother was?” she asks, motioning for you to get back to the chair.  You crawl up onto your hands and knees and slowly inch backwards off of the table, “Um, my mother? Not really. My Dad and I only mourn the anniversary of her death.” you say as Seth offers his arm out to you for support.  After making your way back down to your seat, the woman adds, “Your birthday.” you gape at her in surprise and slowly nod your head.  “Well, it seems there is something your mother did not know about herself.” She touches the yellow eyed woman’s hand and after a moment her eyes glint in the candlelight as she gets up and walks out of the room. Your eyes remain on the sitting sister, awaiting an explanation.  “Your mother never killed anybody.” She starts, leaving you unsure of her direction, “However, had she killed a person - with intention or by accident - she would have learned that she was a Lycanthrope.”  Your fingers fidget in your lap, but you wait patiently for more from the woman, “You see, if she had not been separated from her parents when she was a small child, then maybe they would have told her she was a Lycanthrope.”  Seth seems absorbed by the woman’s explanation, even in his drained state of energy. The woman continues, “Under these circumstances, neither did she find out on her own, nor did her parents have the chance to reveal to her that she was Lycanthrope.”  She clicks her tongue and smacks her hands together theatrically, “Thus, she never had the opportunity to tell your father what she was.” She points directly at you and waggles her finger, “Therefore, he did not know that you too share the same burden.”

 You dig your nails into your palms, unable to follow this line of conversation, “Are you saying that I’m a Werewolf?” you say indignantly.

 The yellow-eyed woman returns with a tray of glasses and pitcher of water, “Not only that,” she chirps, but does not add to her comment after placing down the tray in the center of the table.  Her sister grabs the glasses and fills them to the top, pushing one halfway to you, “When your mother died giving birth to you, a gene was triggered inside of you, unlocking your Werewolf power.” She pauses to take a gulp of her water, so you lean over and take the glass she offered you as well.  “As an infant you were not terribly dangerous, but you were a terrifying sight to your father - a man of no knowledge of the supernatural.” She waved her finger in the air, drawing invisible lines from one side of her to the other, “Your body changed to a small furry animal with claws and sharp teeth, and you thrashed about savagely in your crib, during every cycle of the moon.” She pauses for another gulp of water.  You feel your thirst scratching your throat, but you don’t want to miss a word of her explanation so you sit in place holding your glass.  “The man was lost, he could not turn to anyone for fear of losing you - the only reminder of his lost love. So he came to the world of the occult - New Orleans.” She waves her arms around the room dramatically.

 “Wait,” you break your self-control and interrupt her fantastical story telling, “My father told me I was sick when I was younger, and he said that a holistic doctor cured me.” You place your palms flat on the table, feeling that it is the only sturdy object in your present.  “Yes, my mother was known for her holistic practices.” She raises an eyebrow, waiting to see if you follow her line of suggestion, “Nobody could kill a child of the moon, not even a witch. One look at your fluttering, innocent eyes and she knew there was another way to save you.” She paused for emphasis, “Something that would allow you to keep living a life identical to that of a human.” She reaches over to the yellow eyed woman and grabs the leather cord, “Something that would break you of your slavery to the moon cycle, while also aging and living ignorant of your strengths.”  As she said this something in your body pulsed and your eyes snapped to the vial of blood. You were afraid to ask, but you pushed yourself nonetheless, “What is in that vial?” you shake with anticipation.

 “Vampire blood.” She says and you catch your breath, while Seth stiffens in his seat. He lets out a heavy sigh and speaks up for the first time, “Wouldn’t vampire blood kill a werewolf?”  The woman smiles and leans forward toward the two of you, “This is the blood of a special vampire.” She looks at the glass and spins it in front of her face, “A very special little girl named Hope. Mikaelson.” she breaths.  The yellow eyed woman is entranced by the spinning vial as well and she makes a low sound, “A Hybrid.”  Seth swallows harshly and breaths out a barely audible word, “Renesmee.”

 Your face pinches together, feeling completely left out of everyone’s circle of knowledge, but the yellow eyed woman snaps to both of you, “A Vampire, Wolf Hybrid.”  You flinch back in your seat, feeling very nervous by her excitement. Seth places a hand in your lap, and you squeeze him tightly. The sister stops the spinning vial in her hand and turns back to face you, “Haven’t you wondered why nothing ever tasted quite good?”  You screw up your face and shake your head, “What? No?” you bark defensively, not quite sure what qualifies as good anyway.  “Isn’t it strange that you can always tell when someone is telling a lie?” she asks, and you aren’t sure what she is talking about, but you don’t respond.  “There might be certain things you don’t understand because you grew up this way your entire life. But the fact still remains that you’ve noticed you are uniquely different from your peers.” she says expectantly.

 “I don’t have any friends.” you say, feeling ashamed that this is quite true. “We moved around too much, and I only ever talked to my father anyway. Well, practically...” you add as the image of your boyfriend pops up in your head.  Seth glances at you nervously, but the woman pipes in, “Isn’t it strange then that your father keeps bringing you back here?”  You chew your lip nervously, trying to remember anything about those trips, “We... that’s true that we visit once in a while. But we don’t really do anything. I just remember we come here, then we leave.”  “Isn’t that strange? Why would you travel all this way, and not have one memorable memory of your trip?” She prods, and you look around the table skeptically.  “Is it possible that something causes your father to make the sudden trip? Does he ever tell you why it’s time for you to come back to New Orleans?” she interrogates, but you can’t remember anything prompting the trips. You don’t really remember much about the month or so before your trips anyway, it’s a little bit blurry.  “So...” you decide you feel uncomfortable with all of these questions and no solid answers, so you sway the subject, “If that is vampire blood... does that make me a vampire? Why doesn’t sunlight bother me? Why don’t I need blood?”

 She leans back in her chair and observes you curiously, “My dear, you are one of a very small handful of Hope Mikaelson Hybrids. Your Wolf side allows you to walk in daylight and eat human food without the need for blood. Your Vampire side is what broke your bonds to the moon, allowing you to control your phasing. Blood will only make you stronger. But all your father was looking for was a cure to your beastly transformations, so that is what my mother gave you. Without blood, your vampire strength was only weakened, which works out well for a child wanting to grow up as a normal human. Without knowledge of your Wolf side, you wouldn’t know that you had the ability to change. Unless, that is, you were stricken with a massive and uncontrollable fear.” She crosses her legs and narrows her eyes at you, “Have you ever felt a bone-rattling amount of adrenaline shaking you up with horror?”

 “I...” you search your mind, and feel Seth’s hand twitch in your lap, “That..bear I think terrified me?” you said hesitantly and turn to Seth. He seems to have a face of much more understanding than you feel.  “Yes, that would do the trick.” She says, waiting for you to make the conclusion everybody else in the room has already.

 “Are you saying that I turned into a Wolf?” Crystal clear realization finally hits you hard in the face, and so did something else.

 You open your eyes to look up at Seth, hovering over you as usual, gently cradling your hand in his own, “You were dehydrated and exhausted. You should be fine now.”  You felt woozy with a killer headache, but otherwise nothing else made sense. You raised a hand to your head and spun through your thoughts, going through everything you learned tonight.  “Here,” A dark hand appeared in front of you with a ceramic cup, “Specially brewed tea, will fix you up quick.” A voice wafts around you, and without much resistance you take the cup and sip it’s contents.  It was bitter and tasted like dirt, making you wince. Seth chuckled, glad to see your reactions were still what he expects.  After you finish off the cup, you do feel better after all. The sharp pain in your brain subsides, and your body isn’t aching with lack of fluids.

 “I think that is all I can give you tonight. Of words and of medicine.” A woman’s voice floats around you, but despite feeling balanced, your body was still wobbly.  Seth swept you up into his arms, and he held you close to his body, “Thank you.” you hear him say as a tinny bell sounds overhead, and suddenly you hear the sounds of cars whooshing past you.  “What’s going on?” you yawned, and placed a hand on Seth’s burning chest. You felt the sway of what you assumed was Seth carrying you down the street.  “Let’s get somewhere safe.” He whispers, and you think you feel him nuzzle the side of your face. But that could have been the wind.

 Seth lays you down on a bed of blankets, soft and padded. You look up at him and see the caring smile he uses when watching over you.

 “What is it with you?” You say, sounding a little bit colder than you intended, “I mean, you know I have a boyfriend, right?”

 Seth’s face drops and he looks outside a window into the dark night. His eyes are uncertain when he opens his mouth to speak, “You shouldn’t be with him.” he finally manages to let out.

 You scoff at the teenage movie cliche and he looks hurt. Immediately you regret your reaction, so you cover it up by spitting out, “What, I should be with you instead?”

 He looks down at you sadly and runs a warm finger under your chin, “Yes, but even if I wasn’t here. You shouldn’t be with him.” He says so certainly that you blush under his touch, “He isn’t interested in you,”  Your bashfulness turns into anger and you snap at him, “What do you know? You haven’t even met him!”  He recoils his hand from your face and you feel cold where he leaves you, but you stay determined, and realize that you’ve been on a run-away spree with a strange man boy you don’t know at all.  “You don’t see it?” He says, looking physically hurt by your anger. You remain strong, although seeing him hurt that way touched you deeper than you would like to admit.  “What do you know?” You huff, turning your face away from Seth. He gets off of the bed and crouches down on the ground beside you.  “I know that you are the only person I can think about.” He says, “You are the only important creation in my whole world.”  You turn to him in shock, “You just met me.” you say and sit up in the bed, backing firmly against the wall, “Are you crazy?”  Seth leans his head onto the edge of the bed to look up at you, “There is something else you need to know about my tribe.”

 You try to avoid eye contact, but the corner of your eyes are drawn to him as if the depth of his gaze is pulling your eyes towards his.  “When we meet the person we are supposed to be with - our world changes.” He says with a staggering beat.  “It’s called imprinting.” he bats his dark eyelashes, “It is physically painful for me when you are apart from me. I cannot think of anybody else.”  The intensity of this conversation is making you super uncomfortable. You strain to look away from Seth, but it is agonizingly difficult, “Look... That sounds insane.” your eyes flicker to the ceiling for a moment before returning to the suffering face of Seth.  Your lips turn downward at him, “Listen,” you scoff in disbelief that you are about to say this out loud, “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

 Seth’s chest swelled up and he straightened out his back, “Tell me you don’t feel the pull.” he says with a blast of confidence, “You can choose to avoid me, and you can be with someone else, but you know that we are drawn to one another.” He leans toward you, dropping his eyes low in a sultry seduction, “We can’t help that. We can’t explain it, but it’s just there.”  You wanted to fight him and throw your arms out and push him away. You wanted to run out of the room and find a phone and call someone to come pick you up.  You wanted to scream. But not at Seth. You wanted to scream because something deep within you was stirring. Something is curling and unfurling and telling you that he is right.  Spontaneously your hand reached out toward his face, and it placed itself on his jaw. Completely without your permission, your thumb ran along his bottom lip, so hot and tender.  He drew his lips together, but when he opened them again his tongue came out ever so slightly, just enough to lick his lips.

 A hoarse voice whispered in the night, “Kiss me.”

 A voice, that sounded very much like your own.

  As Seth lifts himself up onto the bed your rogue hand moves from his chin to his hair. Your traitor fingers brush through his silky soft hair as he leans in toward you.  Trapped inside your own body, you could feel your blood racing and your heart pounding. Your eyes were wide and your body might have been trembling. Seth is over top of you, leaning down closer and closer. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and await his impact. Moments later, you feel nothing.  You peek open your eyes, and realize your hands have both curled into your chest, hovering over you protectively.  Seth is lingering over you, meticulously watching you. When your eyes meet he lets out a small and somber sigh. He leans back and sits at the edge of the bed again.  “Look at you,” he says in a hushed voice, reaching to your face, “You’re terrified.” he says as he wipes under your eye and you feel cool air hit something wet.

 You lay there frozen, completely bewildered by the sudden change of mood in the room. You watch him as he stands up and stretches, feeling unsure and surprised.  “I’m going to sleep on the floor. We’ll get back to Washington tomorrow.” He says with his back facing to you. He pauses for a moment, you’re sure of it, but then he just lays down on the ground.  You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and exhaustion takes over you once again.

 The sound of a rattling window draws you from your sleep. You peek an eye open and see Seth standing by the blowing curtains.

 “Just trying to air out the steam.” Seth rubs a towel over his head, “Couldn’t sleep, so thought I’d take advantage of the shower.” He walks over to the bathroom and you hear the sound of running water.

 “It takes a while to warm up,” he shouts from the bathroom, “Got it started in case you want to take one before we leave.” he walks back into the room and nods his head toward the door, “I’ll go get some coffee and beignets. That should give you some time.”

 Before you get a chance to say good morning he grabs the keys and leaves. You sit up in the bed and take a breath. You look to the bathroom, where sounds of hissing water splash around. 

 While you expected the trip to feel like an eternity, it ended up flying by without any notice. You were so inside of your head the entire ‘ride’ back about everything you’ve just discovered.

 Your entire world was turned upside-down.

 Your mother was a werewolf... but she never knew it... you are a hybrid vampire... with some sort of weird Native American soulmate... all of this making less and less sense. You hated that you didn’t have any control over your life anymore.  No, fuck that. You snapped at yourself. Nobody was going to tell you that you were a killer or an animal or somebody’s mate. You will be the leader and decision maker of your own life!

 Your bed of fur shakes and you hop off Seth’s back, noticing he brought you to your home. You turn to Seth’s Wolf form and place your hands on his muzzle. It’s much easier talking to him when he can’t answer back, or distract you with his body or make you dizzy with his seductive staring.  “Don’t change here.” You look deeply into his large glassy eyes, “I’m going home. I can’t talk about this right now. I don’t know what to say to you.” Seth’s chocolate eyes are locked on you and his body remains in place.  “Do you understand?” you rub the back of your hand above his nose, wondering if you could love him after all in this overgrown puppy dog form.  He whimpers a bit and his ears press back into his head, but nonetheless he nods faintly. You drop your arms and he backs away slowly before turning on his heels and running into the dark woods.

 You look to the house, not a single window lit in the nighttime. It must be rather late by now, and your father is either asleep or out on a trip himself. You can only hope the latter so that you don’t have to have this discussion with him too soon. There are too many questions you have for yourself before you are prepared for your father to ask them of you. Likewise, you probably have a certain amount of questions for him as well, you just haven’t thought of them yet.

 You look to the car in the driveway, knowing that your boyfriend might be worried sick. You decide you can’t wait for morning to see him, but you don’t have your phone to call ahead.  Oh well, here goes nothing. You run to the front door, kneeling down to grab the spare key under the flowerpot. You quietly pop inside in case father is home after all, and snatch up the car keys.

 Moments later you’re barreling down the empty roads, thinking of how to explain your sudden and extended disappearance. You wonder if a late night visit would be a good surprise or a burdensome one. But this is too important to put off a minute later.

 You pull in front of his apartment building and run up to the glass door. You smash the call button over and over again, excited and nervous.

 “Hello?” A groggy voice comes through the telecom and a static pause queues your response, “It’s me! Let me up!” you jitter with energy.  “Y/N?” He says with a tinge of worry in his voice and the door buzzes the lock free. You pull the door and spring inside, unable to bear the anticipation anymore.  You huff up to his door and as soon as you reach for the knob it opens in front of you.

 “What are you doing here?” he asks, tying the belt of his robe. You jump for his arms and wrap around him in a tight hug.  You don’t feel a returned embrace, but after a few seconds he grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you away, “Do you know what time it is?”  You look at him astounded, “No, I don’t. But aren’t you worried about me?” you screw up your face, “Aren’t you excited I’m here?”  He looks you up and down, “What? Has something gotten into you?”

 You take a step backward and shake your head in disbelief, “Yeah. Something has gotten into me.” you look down to blink away tears, “Have you even noticed that I was gone?”  He leans against the doorframe and yawns, “Darling, don’t be ridiculous-” he starts but you step forward and shove him, “No, don’t call me darling.” You turn away from him as it dawns on you that Seth may be right, “Don’t call me anything at all.”  He scoffs in shock and raises his voice slightly, “You are causing a scene! Are you acting out for something?” He brushes himself off and straightens out his robe, “Is this because I haven’t called you? I’m a busy man, you know I have to seize my opportun-”

 “You know what. We’re not really working out.” You wipe your face with your sleeve and suck in a deep breath before turning back to him one last time, “Good luck. I really hope you get everything you are looking for.”  With your last steady word you run outside into the night and release a string of sobs. You feel foolish. You feel like you’ve wasted your time. You feel like you’ve been so blind and ridiculously hopeful.

 Everything is swirling, and your head doesn’t make any sense. Your eyesight is red and black and your breath is sharp and painful. You stop thinking about pain and love and hope.  A deep howl emanates from your core and rumbles through you as you throw your head back and release all of your pain into the sky.  You feel four legs hitting the ground over and over in a relentless run. You feel your hair ruffled all over your body by the wind around you.

 A growl roars in your ear and you stop your trot. Something draws your eyes upward where a shadow stands on a rock, blocking out the silhouette of the moon.  The shadow jumps down to the ground in front of you and looks you eye to eye. Glassy, chocolate eyes bore deeply into you and waves of calm wash over you. Slowly you the shadow grows larger and larger over you.  Actually, the shadow wasn’t growing larger, but you were shrinking smaller and smaller. You felt your teeth drawing back and claws receding to soft, skin covered hands.  The shadow disappears into the darkness and you close your eyes, trying to keep your breath steady. Tears bloom in your eyes again, but from a general feeling of helplessness.  

 Footsteps crack twigs and rustle leaves somewhere nearby. You focus on keeping your heartbeat level.  Seth crowds you from behind and even with your back to him you know his face is filled with determination.  “It isn’t right.” you shake your head, unable to fully grasp a hold of yourself. You can feel the air whooshing between you in a hot and needy breeze.

 “Y/N,” Seth whispers, “This is the only right thing that I have ever known.” as he speaks you can feel the core of your body rumbling inside. You felt like a piece of metal and Seth’s presence was a magnet. Forcing yourself away from him took so much energy out of you.  “Listen you-” You take a breath and turn around to face Seth, only to see he is only about half a foot away from you. Air catches in your throat and you forgot what you were going to say to him.  “Y/N...” Seth breaths inches from your face, “I know you’re scared,” he places his forehead to your forehead, “I can help guide you through this. I will be here for you. Whatever you need from me.”  Your hand is in the dirt and you feel Seth place his hand over your hand. You allow him to entwine his fingers with yours.  “Whatever you want from me.” he whispers.

 You softly moan and close your eyes, the last tear that you have to spill rolling down your cheek.  Seth leans in and kisses the drop away, warming your face where his lips touch.

 You give in to your desires, allowing yourself to be overcome with heat all over. The piece of metal inside of you transformed into a perfect magnet to match Seth’s.  Your body is launched at Seth, and hungrily he wraps his arms around you. Your lips crash into Seth’s and you feel yourself melting into him. Tongues wrestle between you, slick with saliva and burning with desire.  For a split second you feel Seth’s lips curl back into a smile, but hastily he is on top of you, pushing you into the ground. Although your bodies were on fire, not a single bead of sweat fell from either one of you. You push your body up to Seth’s and grab at him with needy hands. Your fingernails scrape into his back as he kisses down your neck and shoulders. He makes his way to your collarbone and you arch in pleasure, unable to contain the sensation.  Whimpers escape your lips and Seth growls with arousal at your delicious noises. He nibbles at your clavicle and you groan once more. This time, it pushed Seth over the edge.

 He lifts you upright and splays his legs outward beneath you. He sets you down onto his lap and for the first time you feel his erection pressed against you. You spread your thighs and land your knees down to the ground for support. As you steady yourself overtop of him, Seth runs his fingers along your sides, tickling you. Before you can slide him inside of you, the tickling makes you double over and let out a burst of laughter.  Seth laughs back at you, but continues to palm his hands around your body curiously. You hold onto Seth’s shoulders and pull yourself up to regain your concentration.  You grab his throbbing length with one hand and aim it at your opening. With one look at Seth’s darkened eyes, you plunge down as far as you can go. You yelp at the intensity of penetration, not entirely prepared for his entire cock inside of you. The sensation was shockingly painful but felt completely fitting as well.  “We’re made for one another.” Seth roars into your neck, and you gasp tiny sharp breaths as you force your body up and down onto his lap.  You ram your hands into Seth’s chest and he falls back with a thud. You keep one hand on his chest as your other hand crawls up your thigh as you ride Seth’s cock. Your hand explores your own body, feeling renewed and unknown. You reach to your breast and tweak your nipple, making your blood rush to your erogenous hot spots. Your hand roams your belly and searches for another place of pleasure.  Seth grips your thighs and watches you hungrily as your fingers land on your clitoris. You rub circles with a firm pressure as you continue your rhythmic bobbing atop Seth.  As you feel tightness welling up in your loins, Seth too seems swirling with an impending orgasm. You lean back just enough to change the position of Seth’s shaft inside your walls. You twist your hips gently to really hit different nerves as you swing back and forth.  Your engorged clitoris is throbbing and when Seth brings his fingers to press atop yours, you feel an explosion inside of you. Deep inside you feel Seth shooting into you, and from deeper within you feel waves of electricity shooting all over your body.  As the rumbles of orgasm quiet down, you fall onto Seth’s chest. Together your bodies smolder in the dirt, weaving into one another with each heavy breath. You are unable to open your eyes for several minutes, before your fusion eases you into a peaceful sleep.

 Seth stares up at the stars of the night as they slowly turn orange in the dawn. He inhales your scent and closes his eyes, a very relieved and content smile spread across his face. 

[spacechip707]

32. In a way I can't return 😊😊😊

Oh my gosh, sorry it took so long~ You didn’t specify, so I wrote some twin fluff. Hope that was okay! Really hope that you like it and it’s not a disappointment! Lololol :D

It was just one of those nights.

Self-loathing pervaded Saeran’s thoughts, raking its icy fingers across his mind. He mimicked the gesture physically, clawing at his own scalp as if it would make the pain stop. The accusations of worthlessness...filthiness...loneliness...He didn’t want to face them right now. He didn’t want to answer the thousands of questions bombarding his already pounding head. He didn’t want to stare up at the ceiling for another night, trembling at the shadows that too eerily resembled the gaping emptiness inside his own chest.

His energy was depleted, but he rolled himself off the bed. His legs worked on their own as he made his way to...anywhere.Despite living in the bunker for nearly a year, Saeran refused to find a place to feel truly comfortable. That would require attachment. Something he wasn't willing to form.

      Yet, as he wandered from room to room, he found each one was already associated with memories. He hated it. The kitchen...where Saeyoung would attempt nightly to make them a decent meal. The living room...where he and Saeyoung would sit in an agreeable silence during the day. Even the bathrooms, where Saeyoung would pat his back patiently when his meds caused him to dispel his food.

    Saeran’s thoughts halted when he reached a dead end...which happened to be the entrance into Saeyoung’s work room. This room had no memories. He had only been in there a few times, all of which were very brief.

His brother tended to lock himself in there on stressful days and then emerge with several new robots. Saeran half wondered whether it would work the same way for him. His fingers hovered over the doorknob. He couldn’t decipher the source of the hesitance. Perhaps it stemmed from a fear of being similar to his twin. To be reminded of the fact that he had a brother--the same one that encouraged him with bright zeal and then left him to ruin. He shook his head, afraid of the emotions that would follow that train of thought.

He swallowed and pulled open the door. He froze when he was met with golden eyes and red hair that mirrored his own. A few breaths passed before Saeyoung smiled softly.

“Saeran,” he said the name as a greeting. How he managed to make it sound so cheerful was a mystery to the younger twin. “Sorry, were you looking for me? Did you need something?”’

Saeran prepared himself to pivot on his heel and leave. But then he would face that ceiling again...and his personal spectres hiding in the darkness that danced across it. He needed a distraction, even if it happened to be his brother.

He took a few steps forward and lowered himself onto the floor, leaning against the wall behind him. He pressed his lips in a fine line, his eyes darting up to Saeyoung’s for a brief moment. The older twin didn’t seem to think it unusual--or if he did, he chose not to comment. Saeran was glad. He didn’t want questions.

Saeyoung swiveled his chair to the workbench, throwing his attention back into whatever he was constructing. It was actually….peaceful. The creaking of screws and the soft clanking of metal were the only noises penetrating the muted room. The tension in Saeran’s shoulders melted away, and soon enough the throbbing at the base of his neck did as well.

Just as he let out a breath of relief, a bunch of metal parts went sprawling onto the ground in front of him. Saeyoung snickered from his chair. He had one leg propped up against the seat, while his arm hung lazily to the side. He looked at Saeran with an almost cocky grin. “Want to help?”

Saeran rolled his eyes. After living here so long, he should’ve been expecting Saeyoung to be up to something. But, the older twin continued to prove his unpredictability.

“Not really,” Saeran responded, although his fingers brushed over the metal parts out of curiosity.

He narrowed his eyes at the shapes, a faint blueprint of what they could be already forming in his mind. With a few more seconds, the idea became more solidified until he was seeing exactly where all the pieces would connect and what parts he would need to complete it. Suddenly, Saeran’s anxious thoughts were replaced by the desire to create something.

Oh...So this is why Saeyoung built robots.

“Have an idea?” Saeyoung asked, gathering tools off the workbench and transferring them to the floor. He slipped off his chair and shimmied over to his brother, a concentrated frown replacing his usual quirky smirk. “I was thinking we could use a new toaster, but I don’t think I have the parts for it yet.”

Saeran shook his head and crawled a bit closer, so the parts were spread out evenly between them. “We should make a light.”

“A what?”

“A nightlight of sorts,” he elaborated. He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping that the reasons behind his sudden idea weren't obvious. With the lines wrinkling Saeyoung’s forehead, he doubted that.

He tossed a cluster of tangles wires towards his brother, curtailing the question halfway past his lips. “Sort through these,” he muttered.

The redhead complied, and for awhile, there was peace again. Saeran asked the occasional question, Saeyoung offered occasional suggestions. An hour later, and a skeleton of a complex machine sat between them. Dread pounded in the younger twin’s head. They had hardly exchanged words, and yet they moved together like clockwork. They were truly connected, no matter how much Saeran despised it.

“What happened?” Saeyoung asked. His focused glare morphed back into his typical worried pout.

Saeran found it difficult to swallow. He set the tools down, briefly scowling at his hands as if they had done this against his will.

Saeyoung’s eyes sparked in understanding, and a smile masked the disappointment leaking from his countenance. “Did I push myself onto you again?” He said, unable to conceal the constriction of his throat. “Sorry.”

Saeran hated that he was linked to the man across from him. He hated fate or whatever God Saeyoung believed in that had tied them together in the first place. But most of all, Saeran hated the remorse pooling in his stomach at the crestfallen grimace suffocating his twin’s usual optimism.

“N-no,” he found himself saying. “You didn't. I just…”

How could he explain how he felt without making it worse?

“You don't have to lie,” Saeyoung sighed. His fingers continued to fidget with the wires, and he seemed to blink more than necessary. “If you want to be alone--”

“No!” Saeran burst. He turned away when his brother looked up at him. Not alone. He didn't want that. “Um...g-give me a red wire.”

The older twin’s penetrating gaze lingered uncomfortably long. Saeran was exposed and laid bare in that moment, but perhaps there was an advantage. So was Saeyoung.

Saeran was all too familiar with the anxiety and self-hatred lurking behind those wide eyes.

His brows quirked forward as he reached out for the thin strips offered to him. “MC said you only come here when you're tense,” he said. He lied, rather. That was an observation he made himself.

“Did she?” Saeyoung replied, finding a new zeal for the screwdriver. His mouth parted in a soft sigh. “I guess...you’re not the only one having a rough night.”

Saeran pursed his lips. He had barely heard his brother’s words, and yet they stabbed into his mind like daggers. He cleared his throat, unnerved at how quickly his walls were weakening. “Aren't you Catholic? Why don't you get a priest to...cleanse the place or something?”

Saeyoung covered his chest with a hand, a short but loud laugh erupting from his throat. Still, there was something painful hidden behind it. The older man rubbed his face. “I don’t think that’s how it works,” he replied with a few more chuckles. “Besides, the priest would probably just carry me out of the house instead.”

Saeran couldn't resist the crooked grin tugging at his own lips. His gaze darted up, expecting to see Saeyoung mirroring the same expression. Instead, he noticed the redness ebbing the whites of his eyes.

“Anyway,” the redhead went on, tapping on his temple. “There’s some darkness that we learn to fight ourselves.”

Saeran chewed on his bottom lip, busying himself with the metal parts in front of him. Why did it hurt to see his brother like that? Just a few months ago, the anguish cracking his very being would’ve been an answered prayer. Now, it just made his numb heart twinge.

“Oh,” was the only reply he could manage.

Saeyoung suddenly stiffened. A cheeriness crinkled his eyes, but it didn’t reach past the surface. “Sorry. It’s late, and I’m just getting too sentimental. You know the moon can do that, right? We can’t see the moon inside though. I guess it’s in the air or something.”

He was rambling, Saeran observed. He did that a lot when he was anxious too. “You don’t have to lie,” he interjected.

Saeyoung fell silent, but he insisted on holding up that blithe mask. For once, Saeran wanted to see what was behind it. He wanted to see the fragmented and shattered man that was actually his brother, and, for the first time in years, his motives weren’t malicious. No...they were almost apprehensive.

But despite the time that had passed, he still couldn’t get the questions past his tongue. He didn’t venture further, and instead, he allowed the room be blanketed in quietness.

Once again, they fell into the rhythm of building. One piece here, a screw there, some electrical tape around that...all of it done with only a few words spared between them. Soon enough, Saeran found himself working more quickly while his twin lagged behind.

Then, Saeyoung’s soft snores interrupted the silence for the first time in hours. His head resting on his chair, his mouth hung open, and his glasses tilted on the bridge of his nose. He looked ridiculous. This wasn’t the first time Saeran was tempted to take a picture, but each time resulted in the same conclusion: saved memories meant forming attachment. He didn’t want that.

Instead, he threw himself back into the project, his ambition remaining strong despite his aching fingers and stinging eyes. The clock ticked forward, and Saeran added new ideas as he went along. He wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed when he pushed the round, metal orb away from his lap and admired his work.

He leaned back against the wall and stretched his legs. Exhaustion began to settle into his muscles, but there was a strange satisfaction that accompanied it.  

“Maybe you should go to school and become an engineer,” Saeyoung said, causing the younger man to nearly topple over in surprise.

“You’re awake,” Saeran said matter-of-factly.

Saeyoung shifted forward to inspect the machine. When he fell asleep, there was nothing more than the inner core done. “You said it was a light, right?”

Saeran bit the inside of his cheek, giving a sheepish nod. “The switch is on the bottom.”

His brother carefully flipped the orb, finding the small button and flicking it on. Hundreds of soft, subtle rays shot out from the center. They hit the ceiling and the walls, speckling them in tiny beads of brilliance...at least for a little while. Both twins gasped when the colors shifted, evolving from a warm yellow to a deep purple and then to a cool blue.

“It’s like a sky,” Saeyoung breathed, his hand reaching upwards and weaving through the streams of light.

“Yeah,” Saeran muttered, as much in awe as his brother. He didn’t expect the little invention to actually work. It was...good. Something good. “There’s no windows here, so I thought--”

He was interrupted when something heavy descended onto his head and obstructed his vision. He yanked it off, identifying it as a blanket of sorts. He turned to Saeyoung questioningly and noticed he also had a similar throw.

“You couldn’t sleep in your room, and I couldn’t sleep in mine,” Saeyoung said with a shrug. He shut off the lights, further emphasizing the radiance of colors, before he lowered himself to the ground. He lay flat on his back. “We can just stay here and catch a few hours of rest. You set the atmosphere nicely.”

Saeran hesitated, his gaze flickering between the blanket and Saeyoung. Wouldn’t this just be another memory? But...he had a point. Saeran didn’t want to sleep alone, and the light chased away the shadows he feared so deeply. Besides, he wasn’t sure his legs would make it to his room. So he followed suit, laying out onto the ground and staring up at the sky fashioned from lights.

“I love you, Saeran.”

Saeran jolted, propping himself up on one elbow and glaring at Saeyoung. “Where the heck did that come from?”

The redhead let out a sluggish laugh, no doubt drifting back into sleep. “I don’t know. I just felt like saying it to my brother, so I did. I love you!”

“Stop saying that,” Saeran grumbled. He flopped back onto the floor, fixing his attention back onto the ceiling. But he couldn’t concentrate.

He squirmed as those words submersed themselves into his brain. No longer was he plagued by the cutting slander of his own mind. Instead, those few syllables were wreaking havoc inside, causing an uncomfortable warmth to rise up to his face and spread throughout his body.

He turned his head assigning more glowers to the person responsible, but Saeyoung remained blissfully unaware, his eyes rapt with wonderment as the colors transitioned again. For the second time that night, Saeran saw past them to something melancholy and fractured.

Then, something happened inside of him. It came out nowhere...this overwhelming urge to cast away that sadness...to be the strong one, for once. Saeran drummed his fingers against the ground at the possibility. He wondered if...that phrase...would work just as well. If it would be like magic, casting away the coldness encasing a tortured heart.

So, he experimented. He mutely formed the letters on his tongue, gathering courage until finally…

He said nothing. The words remained lodged in his throat, unwilling to surface into the air. He bailed after the third attempt and pulled the blanket closer to himself. It always seemed so easy for Saeyoung to love. It seemed to pour out of his very soul onto everyone he met, but for Saeran...it wasn’t so simple for his shackled soul.

Even without saying it, Saeran knew without a doubt his brother loved him--unconditionally, as events in the past year had proven. And a strain of affection somewhere in the pit of his chest wanted to return it with the same intensity, but he just couldn’t.

Saeran still had a long way to go before he could truly feel love for his brother. Maybe the tiny flame that had begun to glow inside of him would be squelched by tomorrow’s troubles. Or maybe it was a start.

He once again faced his sleeping twin. A smile twitched on his face as Saeyoung assumed that ridiculous expression again. Saeran didn’t know how to help his brother, and he didn’t know the answer to his own ‘maybes’, but perhaps he could risk a step towards both.

He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.